


SENTINEL

by SXM132



Category: Final Fantasy XIII, Final Fantasy XIII Series, Lightning Returns: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: Equal parts fluff and sadness, F/F, Fanille
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-01-05 04:18:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 40,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12182742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SXM132/pseuds/SXM132
Summary: An interpretation of the Fang/Vanille arc starting thirteen years before Lightning Returns.





	1. Awakening

“Wake up.”

The voice echoed in the dark recesses of her mind, rousing her from a dreamless sleep. She didn’t know whom it belonged to. At first she thought it was Vanille, the young girl reaching out to her as she had done more times than she could bother to count. But she could feel her presence even now in the inky void of her subconscious, silent and asleep. Peaceful.

Spurred by the intruding voice Fang was the first to awaken, grimacing as she rolled stiff and uncomfortable muscles atop the cold surface beneath her. It took her a few seconds to rationalize this newfound mobility. Her eyes parted slowly to take in her surroundings, nothing more than a blur of light and shadow as she waited for her senses to return. She stayed like that for a long while before pulling herself up on one elbow. When the movement of her other arm met resistance her gaze fell over to it, and warmth spread within her.

Vanille’s delicate fingers were interlocked with hers, hands pulled close to her chest almost protectively. Fang noted the gentle smile she wore in her sleep and could not help but find it contagious. It felt wonderful to see such a look of tranquility after all they’d been through. It almost made her feel guilty for wanting to wake her. Almost.

“Vanille,” she whispered. Her voice was a soothing tone reserved only for the woman beside her.

Fang leaned over and combed the redhead’s bangs from her eyes. The hunter’s lips tugged in amusement as she groggily responded to her touch, nuzzling against her palm when it swept down to cup her cheek. It was nostalgic and wholeheartedly gratifying to feel the solidity that was Vanille beneath her fingertips. The world they shared in their dreams had been beautiful and almost perfect, but it lacked the substance that they both craved. It lacked touch.

Emboldened by this notion Fang bent down and pressed her lips to the younger woman's forehead, silently imploring her to wake. Vanille responded by rolling off her side and onto her back, groaning and giggling all at once.

“Five more minutes, okay?” she murmured out in a languid breath.

Fang chuckled softly. “Don’t you think we’ve slept long enough?”

The carefree smile Vanille wore slowly thinned and turned to confusion. Then her bright eyes flashed open and she moved to sit up, bringing Fang with her. When she began to peer around the room Fang allowed herself to do the same. Admittedly where they were, _when_ they were, had been cast from her mind the moment she discovered Vanille. Frowning, Fang attempted to make sense of their surroundings.

The cool, white surface beneath them was that of polished marble. What lighting existed came from small monopoint fixtures mounted to the ceiling, casting dim beams onto an assortment of shelves and miscellaneous objects. Several of the spotlights pointed toward Fang and Vanille, making them feel exposed in the stark darkness of the large room.

“Where are we?” Vanille’s brows creased. She knew she should know. For the most part they were conscious of what happened in their absence, but for now it seemed like a distant memory. Like a dream she had forgotten upon awakening. Or had she simply stopped paying attention? After what had befallen Serah. After Lightning had entombed herself in crystal, and the world descended into darkness. So much had gone horrifically awry, and there had been nothing she could do about it frozen in stasis. Therefore was it all that wrong of her to turn away, and spend her days dreaming with Fang? Was it wrong of her to escape inside happy illusions, when she herself played a vital part in this new world’s creation?

As if sensing the direction Vanille’s thoughts had taken Fang squeezed the hand still holding hers reassuringly. The girl met her eyes and smiled faintly, squeezing back. Just then they became aware of an obtrusive object between their palms, and Fang withdrew. Her fingertips glided over the item in Vanille’s hand, and she picked it up and held it at eye level for further scrutiny.

“What is it?” Vanille asked, and Fang gestured for the girl to take a look for herself. Clasping the crystal fragment between her thumb and forefinger she held it out to one of the overhead spotlights, watching the light refract across its many facets and shine in vibrant iridescence. “Pretty,” she marveled. She examined it a few seconds more, then carefully tucked it into the pouch at her belt for safekeeping.

As she did so Fang stood, tested the strength in her legs, and walked toward the edge of the large marble slab. Her palm came up to rest against a wall of thick glass, and her brows furrowed as her eyes darted to each corner of the stone. They were sealed in. Taking a few steps back Fang braced herself, then charged forward and rammed her shoulder against the wall. It didn’t shatter or relent an inch, and Fang doubled over briefly - her mouth agape and silent as pain ricocheted up and down her arm. It would seem she'd grossly overestimated her strength.

“Fang?” Vanille called, worried.

“M’fine. Just – didn’t expect that, is all.” Hissing a little through her teeth the hunter rubbed at her busted shoulder. Her eyes flickered over the naked flesh where her brand once rested, proof that she was no longer l’Cie. Which meant, of course, no powers. She wished she’d bothered to consider that before barreling into a shockproof pane of glass.

Coming to terms with the fact that they were trapped, Fang sighed and crossed her arms. “Let’s just hope whoever put us in this box has a damned good reason for it.”

“You think it’s a cage or something?”

Laughter rang out from within the room before Fang could respond, its bearer’s voice small and mischievous. Fang immediately took a step backward toward Vanille, adopting a protective stance as her eyes locked onto a figure that stepped out from what seemed like the very darkness itself.

“It’s not a cage, silly. It’s an exhibit.”

From the other side of the glass a pink-haired child smiled up at them, her hands innocently thrown behind her back. Vanille stared at her in confusion, and despite the girl’s unassuming appearance Fang remained guarded. “A what?”

“An exhibit. This is a museum, and _you_ two are the main attraction.” The girl advanced forward with a sway to her step, her gloved fingers reaching out to skim along a sign facing away from them. Fang had noticed a few of them wrapped around the entirety of their glass prison. “It says right here, _The Daughters of Etro_ ,” the girl began, looking around. “This whole wing of the museum is dedicated to you, in fact. Everything before and during the fall of Cocoon.”

Fang scoffed. “So we’ve been on display all this time for people to gawk at?”

“Your crystal was initially enshrined on the new Cocoon, Bhunivelze. But you were transported here after the world became a little more … well, apathetic toward their gods and idols.”

“Fang …”

Both of them were reeling with questions. Fang shook her head to rid herself of such inquiries for the time being. She turned her attention toward the girl again, her mouth drawn into a distrusting glower. “Listen, I don’t know who you are or why you’re here. All I want to know is if you can get us out of this.” She banged her fist against the glass in emphasis.

“Sure thing!” The child skipped back a few paces, about-facing with a swing of her heels and outstretching her hand toward them. “Oh, and my name?” She smiled deviously, her fingers wiggling as a red, crackling energy formed at her palm. “It’s Lumina.”

The attack shot out.

All the lights in the vicinity burst with a sudden hissing pop. A loud cracking echoed ominously around them, and without thought Fang dove on top of Vanille; shielding her as thick glass shattered and crashed to the ground around them. She clenched her jaw to stop herself from crying out. The darkness was short-lived. Fluorescent red tubes flashed along the corners of the room, accompanied by a howling siren.

“Could’ve at least warned us about the alarm,” Fang growled. She looked up, finding the girl missing. _‘What was that kid?’_

Cursing she staggered to her feet, ignoring the many painful gouges on her back, and pulled Vanille up with her. Their footfalls crunched over glass littering the museum floor as they advanced toward the exit. Halfway there Fang stopped, the flickering red light drawing her attention to a nearby case. Its protective cover was already partially shattered from Lumina’s attack, and Fang kicked out to help it the rest of the way. She reached for the contents within.

“Catch.”

Fang tossed something Vanille's way, and she fumbled slightly before getting a solid grip. It was her binding rod. She smiled and gave it a wave while Fang withdrew her lance from the same case, the weapons having been housed together.

They could hear running from the opposite end of the door, and tensed when it suddenly lifted open. Several soldiers in strange, jewel-fronted helmets raced in with their gunblades locked on the pair. Fang shoved Vanille behind her and snarled, brandishing her spear as she waited for them to take the offensive. But they didn’t. One by one the soldiers’ body language changed. Their weapons fell limp, some even rattling against the floor when they dropped from slack grips. Once their initial shock subsided, the soldiers bent to one knee and bowed.

Fang regarded them warily, Vanille clasping her arm and peering out from behind her.

“Oerba Yun Fang. Oerba Dia Vanille. We’ve long awaited your return.”

“Where are we?” Fang asked gruffly. 

“The City of Revelry, Yusnaan. Year 987 AF.”

Nine hundred and eighty seven years after the fall of Cocoon. Fang paled. They’d been asleep for nearly a thousand years.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Notes & Chapter References:
> 
> Fang/Vanille is already long established in this fic, though unconfirmed with the other l'Cie. 
> 
> The crystal fragment in this chapter is in reference to the Lightning Returns quest "The Saint's Stone".
> 
> In FFXIII-2 Noel claims Fang and Vanille were known in his history as the 'Daughters of Etro'.
> 
> In both FFXIII Reminiscence: Tracer of Memories & Lightning Returns it is stated that Fang and Vanille awoke thirteen years before the game and were first greeted by Lumina. The cause of their awakening is never confirmed.
> 
> 'Sentinel' is a paradigm role in FFXIII. Its main function is to shield allies from enemy attacks. It is one of Fang's primary roles. 
> 
> Big thanks to my beta plus_minus.


	2. Yusnaan

 -

9 8 7 A F

-

From a large windowpane Vanille observed the city outside. Despite it being the dead of night the streets were illuminated by neon lights, and the distant pulse of music could be heard from a gated and brightly lit area some blocks away.

The guards from earlier that night had surreptitiously transported them to what Vanille could only assume was an inn of sorts. The suite they were taken to was as big as the commune area they shared with several other orphans back in Oerba. The aesthetics of the furniture and art were alien to them, similar to what they’d seen on Cocoon yet entirely different. Everything seemed more subdued – somber, even. In spite of the city’s energy and flare it felt wholly devoid of warmth.

After propping her spear against the wall Fang turned and sat on one of the large beds, sighing with exhaustion. Her mind was racing to catch up with everything that had transpired. A pair of soldiers guarded their door from the outside. Beside where they were and how many years they’d been asleep, the soldiers refused to divulge more information. They had orders to keep the two of them safe, and would escort them to the Grand Palace in the morning. There the city Patron himself would answer any and all questions. Having little say in the matter the hunter relented on pressing them further.

Bringing her arms up Fang rolled her shoulders in a stretch, then flinched at a sudden jagged pain. She reached behind her, groping blindly, and sighed again when her efforts proved futile. “Hey – Vanille. Do me a favor?”

Vanille looked away from the window, blinking innocently. “What is it?”

Fang grinned sheepishly, already prepared for her reaction. “I think there’s a piece of glass wedged in my shoulder. Can you pull it out for me?”

“ _What?”_  she screeched. Hurrying over to Fang she sat behind her, pushing the hunter’s wild mane of hair aside and gingerly tugging the sari off her shoulder. She gasped at what she saw. Mean looking lacerations crisscrossed Fang’s shoulders and back from where the heavy broken glass came down on her. “Fang, this is horrible!”

“Don’t sugarcoat it now,” she teased.

Vanille’s hands went to the pouch at her belt, prying it open and finding nothing but the iridescent stone from earlier. She had Orphan to thank for her lack of restoratives. Frustrated she stood back up and began rummaging through drawers and cabinets in pursuit of medical supplies. Fang watched her overturn most of the suite, and she quirked her brow when the girl returned empty-handed and fidgeting anxiously.

“I don’t care about the rest of it. Just the glass, please.” Fang tried to assure her with a smile.

“No! You’re _hurt_ ,” Vanille whined. “If only I could still …” She stopped ****pacing, then focused her attention on her hands. She could feel energy begin to hum at her fingertips, her palms warming with a familiar sensation. More surprised than confused she moved cautiously toward Fang, fearing any sudden break in concentration might disrupt the spell her body was attempting to channel.

Kneeling on the bed Vanille pressed the flat of her hands to Fang’s back. The dark haired woman was immediately soothed by the contact, her nerves calming from their frenzy as her partner’s fingers traced the deep cuts on her skin and coaxed them to close. She exhaled in gratitude when the offending shard of glass was plucked from the groove of her shoulder blade, the wound sealed shortly afterward.

When her work was finished Vanille placed her hands atop Fang’s shoulders, resting them there as the energy gradually fizzled out. “ _Woah_. I’m a little dizzy,” she admitted airily. Her arms snaked forward to wrap around her shoulders and she leaned her weight against her, head nestled against the crook of her neck.

The older woman stared quietly at the floor for a long while, her hand gripping one of Vanille’s and running her thumb across her knuckles. “You still have your powers.”

“I guess so,” she yawned. “Some of them at least. Don’t you?”

Fang shifted to face Vanille. The girl had not escaped the cascading glass entirely, and a small knick grazed the side of her cheek. Focusing on that Fang concentrated her energy into a single cure spell, her thumb gently whisking over the mark as she did so. But when she pulled her hand away it remained unchanged. Her lips parted slightly in disappointment, eyes darting down before she forced them up again. “Guess not. Sorry, Vanille.”

“Don’t be,” the redhead chimed, squeezing her arms around her shoulders gently. “It doesn’t matter that you don’t have powers. You were an amazing hunter way before them, anyway. Not to mention I’ll always be around to keep you safe.” She giggled at that last part, and Fang made a face at her for the quip. Bridging the distance between them she rested her forehead against Vanille’s, teasing back as she pulled her close.

“You sure you’re not still a l’Cie?”

“Fang! Get your hand out of my skirt!” She laughed.

“What? I’m only checking,” Fang defended. Her palm skimmed over her partner’s thigh, finding the skin smooth and free of the mark it once bore. She gave her a conceding look. “Hm. No brand.”

“See? All human.”

“Well. Just ‘cause it’s not _there_ doesn’t mean you don’t have one,” Fang argued, waggling her brow. “Maybe I should check the rest of you.”

“Can you behave, please?” Vanille giggled.

“Oh, alright. But only because you asked so nicely.” Fang smiled, conscious of the way Vanille stared adoringly up at her – her arms around her neck, twirling strands of dark hair around her fingers. It felt like one of their shared dreams. A beautiful distraction.

Leaning forward Vanille brought her lips to Fang’s affectionately. How long had it been since she’d last kissed her? It felt like centuries. It _was_ centuries. But she didn’t want to think about that part yet. She wanted to escape with Fang just a little while longer. Reality could wait.

The older woman’s lips curled into a gentle smile against hers and she deepened their kiss, her hands whisking patterns across her back. When they parted, she pulled back slightly to regard the girl with raw sincerity. “I love you, Vanille.”

“I love you too, Fang.” She beamed softly, combing her fingers through her partner’s feathery bangs before she leaned in to peck her lips again. Taking Fang’s hands in hers she tugged her toward the pillowed end of the bed. They lounged above the covers, Vanille lying in Fang’s arms as she propped herself against the headboard.

The younger woman closed her eyes, nuzzling her head against the other’s chest. “This new world … we’ll figure it out. As long as we’re together we can get through anything.”

“Yeah,” Fang agreed. She pet Vanille’s hair and tried to get herself to believe that, but a large part of her refused to budge. Their new world put her on edge. There was something downright off about it, leading her to wonder what exactly they would find in the coming days. It also begged a more pressing question, one Fang was reluctant to discover the answer to.

_‘Why are we awake, Vanille?’_

Her grip subconsciously tightened around the girl. Their focus was complete, and with Etro slain and unable to grant miracles she’d assumed they would sleep forever. But there they were. They’d woken up, for whatever reason. She’d been stripped of her l’Cie powers, but not Vanille. It made a pitiful feeling sink into her chest. Did it have anything to do with the reason they were awake? Would she even have the strength to keep Vanille safe from whatever it was?

“Fang?”

The hunter broke herself out of her trance. Her heart had begun to pound with anxiety. She wondered if Vanille could hear it. “Yeah?”

“Did … Did you say something just now?”

“No,” she answered, hesitant as she glanced around the room. “D’you hear something?”

“I …” Vanille shook her head, wrapping her arms around Fang’s middle and molding herself into her more securely. “I think I’m just tired.”

Fang frowned slightly and said nothing. She continued to stroke Vanille's pink locks, deep jade eyes staring blankly out of the window. She doubted she could bring herself to fall asleep tonight.

-

Fang tapped her foot against the tile floor, looking around the spacious and empty ballroom. “You’d think after the spectacle we made in town the Patron would be on time to see us.”

Vanille nodded, giving a small laugh in understanding. They’d been greeted earlier by a dozen soldiers, who led them from their room to what they called the Augur’s Quarter. Citizens flocked around them as they progressed. It became necessary for the guards to push the crowd back at one point, surprising both Gran Pulsians. They were more well-known for their place in history than either of them had anticipated. While the Grand Palace was large and relatively lifeless at the moment, they were at least grateful it offered a temporary reprieve from the public’s eye.

“You’re absolutely right, Fang. Sorry about the wait, had to settle an issue before today’s shipment.”

They turned in the direction of the voice, startled for more than one reason.

“Snow!” Vanille exclaimed. She ran over and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. The man laughed and patted her back. “Vanille. It’s good to see you. Both of you.” When she let him go he walked further into the room to meet Fang halfway. He placed his hand firmly on the hunter’s shoulder in a show of camaraderie. She did the same.

“So you’re the Patron, are you?”

“ ‘fraid so. That’s what the people wanted, so here I am.”

“Is it just you?” Vanille asked, looking hopeful.

Snow’s smile wavered. Stepping back from them he rubbed awkwardly at his neck. “Right. You two have been gone a while. Guess I should fill you in, huh? But where to start …”

“We could see what was happening. Right up until Cocoon fell. After that everything went blank, and we woke up here.” Vanille glanced over to Fang for affirmation, and the older woman nodded. It was only then that she wondered whether their long sleep had anything to do with the Goddess’s death.

“Ah. So you know about …” he paused, his voice stalling in his throat.

“Yeah,” Fang gruffed awkwardly, her eyes downcast.

Vanille moved a step closer and took one of his large hands between hers, squeezing it comfortingly. “I’m really sorry, Snow,” she said, her eyes shining with regret and sincerity. It was the best she could offer. She tried to smile - tried not to think about it too deeply, lest the guilt consume her. She felt responsible for what happened to the Farron sisters. For now she needed to forget that fact and be strong for Snow. For Fang. She could deal with the emotions later, in private where she could mourn the two accordingly and pray for a means of somehow making things right.

Snow smiled a bit mutedly. “It’s alright. It was a long time ago. I don’t have much time these days to think about it.”  
  
Not entirely believing he’d made peace with the matter, Fang decided to change the subject rather than have the Patron relive painful memories. “So how’d you come to rule the roost around here, anyway?”

Snow began to relay the events that brought him there. He explained how the fal’Cie Pandemonium created both Luxerion and then Yusnaan to entice the people off their man-made Cocoon. The fal’Cie then became the sole source of production in the land, and the people became reliant on it for food and materials. He was tasked with distributing these goods to the rest of Nova Chrysalia, to ensure that war would never break out amongst its people.

“That sounds an awful lot like the Cocoon fal’Cie,” Fang interjected, not in favor of where his story was headed. It reminded her of how Lindzei had tricked the people of Gran Pulse into living on Cocoon, triggering a chain of events that would lead to both civilizations’ destruction.

“For now, this is the best we can do,” Snow told her, sounding almost defeated.

“What about the others?” Vanille asked. Her gaze fell to the floor. She knew it was a painful subject, but she needed the closure of having a definite answer.

“Sazh and Dajh live off in the Wildlands, and Noel was in Luxerion last I heard … Hope was around for a while. Then one day on Bhunivelze he just … disappeared. The chaos must’ve gotten him.”

“Chaos?” she pressed curiously.

“It’s the power that flooded into our world when Valhalla merged with Pulse. When the chaos gets ahold of something, or someone … Well. They’re as good as gone.”

“That’s terrible,” Vanille whispered.

Fang shifted uncomfortably. “What does it look like?”

“Wisps of black energy, like smoke. Most of it’s harmless, but it starts to get dangerous when there’s large clouds of it hanging around.”

The hunter nodded, making a mental note of it. They fell into a long pause, remembering the living, the dead, and all those in between. To break the silence, Fang finally bridged the question she was most concerned with. “Snow … Do you have any idea why Vanille and I woke up?”

“I was hoping you could tell me that one. No clues, huh?” They shook their heads, causing the Patron to grin at them reassuringly. “Hey, no sense in worrying about it. Let’s give it some time, we’ll figure it out. Until then, why don’t you hang around here for a while? Stay at the palace and come to the banquet tonight. If you like it you’re more than welcome to live here.”

“We’ll consider that.” Fang nodded, smirking.

“Great. I’m in meetings most of the day but I’ll catch you two later. I’ll send someone to show you to your rooms.”

“Room,” Fang corrected.

“Room?” He glanced between the two of them, then flushed slightly as the hunter quirked her brow at him. “Eh – Right. Room.” Using his watch as a distraction he cleared his throat, then tucked it into his pocket. “Back to the grind. Let me know if you ladies need anything.”

“Thank you, Snow.” Vanille waved as he exited from the doors he’d come from, escorted by two guards and a staff member who’d begun to rattle off a list of things the Patron needed to approve. When Fang came up beside her she leaned against her, sighing. “They’re all gone, Fang.”

“Not all of ‘em,” she assured, throwing her arm around the girl’s shoulders and squeezing. “After this banquet thing, why don’t you and I pay a visit to Sazh and his boy?”

“Dajh! We never had the chance to see him after he came out of crystal. Do you think he’ll want to talk to us?”

“Hope so. After all, we’ve got some apologizing to do.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Notes & Chapter References:
> 
> Dates at the beginning of each chapter will indicate the year. In accordance with FFXIII-2 AF abbreviates 'After the Fall', or rather, when Fang and Vanille created the crystal pillar.
> 
> The early history of Nova Chrysalia is provided in FFXIII Reminiscence: Tracer of Memories.
> 
> While Fang has less than a handful of magic attacks in Lightning Returns, I've chosen to disregard them and make her fully human. Vanille doesn't fight; what powers she lost or gained are unknown other than what is provided in the game. 
> 
> Big thanks to my beta plus_minus.


	3. Chaos

-

9 8 7 A F

-

A strobe of neon lights flashed in time with the pulsing bass of the music, heavy enough to rumble across the ground and vibrate in their chests. In the darkness bodies writhed and swayed as one teeming mass to the rhythm, their movements appearing almost fluid from the Oerbans’ vantage point. Seated beside the city’s Patron on a balcony they silently overlooked the ballroom below.

In full honesty the two didn’t know what to think of it all. The banquet had started off tame enough with food and drink, but as the night progressed the crowd became livelier, and the entertainment more decadent. They’d never witnessed such a rampant lack of inhibition. Did it make them uncomfortable simply because they weren’t accustomed to it?

Vanille broke her focus from the crowd to glance over at Snow. He sat hunched at his throne, gazing out onto the dance floor with an unreadable expression. When he felt her eyes on him he turned and flashed her a smile. She smiled back meekly. The way the corners of his lips fought to stay up did not go unnoticed. Confused by the girl’s sympathetic gaze, Snow waved over a woman holding a tray and gestured toward the redhead. The cat-masked woman sauntered toward her and held out the tray invitingly, on which rested several fluted cocktails. Vanille unconsciously made a face, already dizzy from the two bubbly beverages she’d had earlier. Dismissing the server with a kind shake of her head she turned her attention elsewhere.

Fang was lounged back in her chair, legs crossed as she distractedly twirled her glass beside the armrest. Vanille could tell from her flickering gaze that she was trying very hard _not_ to stare at the pole dancers in her direct line of vision. She laughed and leaned over, tugging at the hunter’s free hand. Startled the older woman turned to her, looking mildly guilty, and in response Vanille rolled her eyes and nodded toward the hallway behind them. Fang obliged the wordless request, setting her drink down and leading the smaller girl off the balcony.

“What is it?” She spoke close to her ear to compete with the booming music.

Vanille took both of her hands and started walking backwards, shouting yet barely audible. “Let’s get some air, okay?”

They meandered down a few corridors before finding an isolated veranda. Once they stepped out onto it Fang shut the doors behind them, watching Vanille stretch and take a deep breath of the crisp night air.

“Some party, eh?”

“It’s definitely … different,” the redhead offered. “A lot of it’s different. Not just the banquet.”

“Yusnaan’s no Oerba, that’s for sure. But we’ll get used to it I bet. We got the hang of Cocoon the first time – sort of.”

Vanille sighed and walked to the edge of the balcony, leaning her arms against its ledge as she peered out at the city. “It even sounds different here, too. I wonder if it’s ever quiet.”

“I’m sure the music will stop when the banquet’s over,” Fang assured. Her toes wiggled in her sandals, tickled by the bass vibrations that reached them even here.

The younger girl shook her head. “It’s not just the music, Fang. Listen.”

The hunter came up behind her and embraced her around the middle. Closing her eyes she strained her ears, attempting to pick up on anything other than the festivities indoors. When it proved unsuccessful she shrugged. “I don’t hear anything, Vanille … What’s it sound like?”

“It’s hard to say. Like … like a lot of muffled moaning.”

“Well there’s plenty of that going on in the palace,” Fang scoffed.

“No, not like _that_. These voices - they sound sad.” Vanille bowed her head with a frown. Acutely empathetic in nature, she could feel the sorrowful and distant drone slowly begin to pull her into a more somber state of mind. It was so powerful. How could Fang not hear it?

Catching onto her partner’s change in demeanor Fang pulled her a little closer, squeezing as she spoke softly near her ear. “Don’t get all worked up over it, yeah? You could be tired. Or maybe those drinks are messing with your head.”

“You don’t believe me?”

The girl turned in her arms and met her with bright, worried eyes. Fang’s breath hitched in her throat, alarmed by the conviction in her gaze. Vanille believed in what she was saying. The hunter debated her response, whether to stand by her observation or simply lie to pacify her love. Her lips parted, hoping that the right words would find their way out. A familiar voice intruded before they could.

“I hear it too.”

They separated, surprised, and peered toward the opposite end of the veranda. Lumina sat atop its stone ledge, her legs swinging over the edge with a playful listlessness. Fang’s eyes narrowed. She was certain they’d been alone. Once again the girl had evaded her detection and seemingly appeared out of thin air.

“You hear them crying, don’t you Vanille?” The pink haired child leaned back, eying the redhead with a knowing smile as she tilted her head.

“Hear who?” Vanille whispered.

“The souls of the dead. The chaos.”

Vanille made to step toward the girl and Fang held her back with a firm hand. She still didn’t trust the child. “What’s all this about?” the hunter growled.

Lumina pulled herself up to stand on the balcony rail, balancing her way across the thin strip as she advanced toward them. “You may not be able to hear it, but we do. The chaos has a voice – a lot of them in fact. They call out, desperate for someone to hear them. You should be grateful you don’t have to know what it sounds like. Right, Vanille?”

Fang turned back to her partner, who seemed to pale as she spoke. “Those voices in the chaos … they’re the souls of the dead?”

“That’s right – five hundred years’ worth, all cramped and confused – unable to be reborn. Unable to do much of anything really, except consume.”

“But why?”

“Didn’t Snow tell you? Time’s stopped in Nova Chrysalia. No one ages, and therefore no one is born. There are no new vessels for the souls of the dead to inhabit, so they keep piling up in the ether.”

“That’s terrible … Isn’t there anything we can do to help them?” Vanille pressed.

The child smiled deviously, unnerving Fang. Before she could answer the doors suddenly burst open behind them, and a deep voice boomed from the threshold Snow now towered in.

“Lumina!”

Unfazed by the threat that lurked behind the Patron’s tone, the child turned her attention back to Fang and Vanille with a roll of her eyes. “Looks like I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

A chasm of dark energy began to form behind her in the empty space beyond the balcony. Remembering Snow’s warning about the chaos Fang pulled Vanille back from the ledge, standing in front of her protectively. Despite her glower Lumina grinned back at her with a wave. She then peered over the hunter’s shoulder to the redhead.

“When you’re ready to learn more about the chaos, come to Luxerion. Okay?”

With that she hopped off the rail and let herself fall backwards into the rift. The black swirling mass engulfed her, and then it dispersed entirely. Snow walked over to the balcony edge, hands gripping the stone wall tightly as he made certain she was truly gone.

“Who is she?” Fang demanded.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” Snow grated. “She comes and goes using the chaos, doing whatever she wants. I’d stay away from her if I were you.” They could feel a cold severity overtake the Patron, watching as he peered out into the dark sky with hardened eyes. This was not the Snow they had known. Not anymore. “Why don’t you two call it a night? I’m sure it’s all been a lot to take in for one day.”

“Are you sure you don’t want us back at the party?” Vanille asked softly. She ran her hand over his back, hoping to bring him out of his sudden stupor. He flashed her a smile, however false she could tell it was.

“Don’t worry. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

“Right.” She hesitated a moment, before stepping away. Falling in stride with her partner the two walked back into the palace and in the direction of their room. Both lost to their own thoughts, the only sound for a while was the echo of their footsteps against the tile and the distant thump of the banquet.

“Do you think she was telling the truth?” Vanille asked at last.

“About the chaos? I don’t know,” Fang answered honestly. “All I know is I don’t trust her. It’s like she’s following us, for whatever reason.”

“Snow doesn’t seem to like her at all. Do you think it’s because she looks so … familiar?”

“She looks like Serah,” the hunter deadpanned, as though it were obvious.

The redhead blinked. “Really? I was thinking more like Lightning.”

Fang cocked her brow at the comment, then shook her head. “No matter _who_ she looks like, I want you to be careful. If she shows up again you come straight to me, got that? Keep your guard up, at least until we can figure out what exactly’s going on around here.”

Though she wouldn’t show it, the hunter was increasingly unsettled by the information they’d begun to accumulate. When they’d woken up Lumina was the first person to greet them. They’d since discovered that Vanille retained her powers, and could now supposedly hear the voices of souls trapped within the chaos – an ability she shared with the pink haired child. She’d followed them, baited them with information, and told them where to find their answers. It felt like a trap. Was Lumina orchestrating all of this? For what purpose?

What was waiting for them in Luxerion?

-

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay?”

Snow smiled softly at the two women standing before him in the palace entrance. It had only been a week since they emerged from crystal stasis, and in that time he’d tried his best to make them comfortable and get them acclimated to the new world they found themselves in. But in the end, Yusnaan just wasn’t the right fit. They didn’t care for the nightly festivities, and felt uncomfortable with the amount of attention they drew outside of the palace. It was time for a change of scenery.

“We’ll be back,” Vanille assured. “I just really want to see Sazh and Dajh again!”

“Right … About that.” He paused, and then shook his head dismissively. “Visiting Sazh would be good. He needs the company. Ol’ man probably has a lot of stories to tell you.”

Giggling Vanille stood on her toes to give him a farewell hug, then headed toward the gate where several guards were stationed to escort them to the airship that awaited them in the Industrial Area. Fang stayed behind, waiting for her love to get a fair distance away before turning her attention back to the Patron. She had to speak her piece before departing.

Taking his left forearm in her hands she hiked up his sleeve, exposing the half-formed l’Cie brand beneath. So the rumors she’d heard in town were true. He’d sealed his fate, just to protect the fal’Cie that built this city. Sighing she looked him straight in the eyes. “I get what you’re trying to do, yeah? Just don’t let that damn fal’Cie run the show. Being so dependent on them is what got Cocoon in this whole mess to begin with.”

“We don’t have to worry about that,” Snow defended. At her puzzled expression he elaborated, calm and resigned, “The world is ending, Fang. It doesn’t hurt to indulge a little in the fal’Cie’s generosity before then.”

“Very funny,” the hunter scoffed, releasing his arm. When he didn’t laugh or change his stoic demeanor she frowned, searching his gaze. “You’re serious.”

He nodded gravely.

“When?”

“Thirteen years from now, if you believe the Order of Salvation.”

“How?”

“Didn’t you pay attention at all to those plays in the Augur’s Quarter?”

“All that chanting and dancing really isn’t my thing. Can you sum it up for me?”

“The Savior will awaken, and guide our souls to the New World,” he explained. “When that happens, the world we live in now will be destroyed.”

“And you’re deciding to tell me this _now?”_ she accused.

“Hey, I wasn’t even going to mention it. You two just woke up, I figured you could afford some blissful ignorance for a while.”

Fang pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to process the bombshell Snow had just dropped on her. Vanille called out to her from the courtyard, encouraging her to join her. Glancing back over to the Patron her brows knitted.

“We’ll talk more about this next time. Until then you’d better not go Cie’th or I’ll kick your arse, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear.” Despite the threat he smirked. Maybe he’d changed over the years, but Fang certainly hadn’t.

They shook hands firmly, pulling in to pat each other on the back. With a final silent nod Fang turned to meet her partner outside the palace.

“What took so long?” Vanille asked.

Fang laughed coolly, lacing her fingers with the younger woman’s when she offered her hand. “Just went off on a tangent. Nothing to worry about.”

Taking in the spring in Vanille’s step and the pleasant smile across her lips, Fang kept her newfound discovery to herself. Vanille had enough to worry about with the chaos, she did not need the burden of this added knowledge. At least not yet, not when the hunter barely had the facts straight to begin with.

As they walked through the Augur’s Quarter Fang allowed her thoughts to travel back to Snow. Back to the pendant he wore draped around his neck, even after several centuries had passed. She doubted she could do it if she were in his shoes. Granted he had changed, but at heart he was the same altruistic hero he’d always been. He remained long after Serah’s death. Had such a thing happened to Vanille, Fang knew it would break her. Life was not worth living without the woman beside her.

Snow could have been happy. He could have married Serah and enjoyed however many years of bliss he could manage in New Bodhum. Instead he postponed their wedding, leaving her behind to find a means of rescuing the two Gran Pulsians from inside Cocoon’s crystal pillar. The hunter wondered if in hindsight he regretted that decision. Surely he did.

As for Fang, she would not repeat his mistakes. Snow’s misfortune allowed her to realize how every moment she shared with Vanille was precious. The world would be ending in thirteen years, if they even made it that far. With so little time she refused to share the Patron’s fate. While she was able, she wanted all she could possibly have with Vanille. No more waiting.

Squeezing her love’s hand affectionately, Fang began to formulate how to put her plans into action.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to my beta plus_minus.


	4. The Order

-

9 8 7 A F

-

Fang rested her head in her palm, staring bleakly out at the rain that spattered across the window of the train. The cold, stormy weather seemed appropriate for their journey, and she didn’t bother to hide her disposition. She didn’t care at all for where they were headed, or what they were headed into.

Their meeting with Sazh was not the happy reunion they’d envisioned. They rode chocobos into the heart of the Wildlands, where rumors had led them in search of the pilot. They expected to find the pair lighthearted and excited to see them. Dajh would love the chocobos, and the handful of gifts they’d brought in an admittedly obvious attempt to bribe his forgiveness.

What they found instead was an airship junkyard, the home of a man who was just as broken as the discarded machinery he surrounded himself with. Dajh was asleep. He’d been asleep for close to five hundred years. Sazh explained how Etro’s miracle was revoked upon her death, and his son’s soul was lost to the chaos in consequence. He spent years trying to find it, but the task proved impossible. Without Dajh to brighten his life, Sazh seemed like an empty shell.

Vanille couldn’t stand to see him like that. She needed to help. She refused to give up on Dajh, not when she felt directly responsible for his condition. It was in her desperation to find an answer that she remembered her newfound ability. Though the voices were not as powerful as they had been in Yusnaan, she could still hear them on the breeze if she listened close enough. The chaos could speak to her. Just maybe, she could find Dajh in it and guide him back to his body. Maybe it was the reason why she was given this power to begin with.

For Sazh’s sake Fang obliged Vanille’s request to roam the Wildlands, though she inherently disapproved. Her skin crawled whenever the younger woman called out to the black smoke wherever she saw it. She would watch as pain and sorrow flickered across her partner’s face – listened as she would apologize and placate voices that Fang herself could not hear. She felt the emotional toll it put on Vanille, yet the redhead soldiered on regardless.

If the chaos knew where Dajh was, it was not sharing that information. What’s worse, once summoned it refused to disperse. The chaos trailed their chocobos like slithering serpents, fixated on the woman who’d called out to it. When enough of the energy had accumulated to draw Fang’s concern she declared their expedition over.

Vanille couldn’t accept it. She insisted that she needed to know more about the chaos to engage it more effectively. That was when she brought up Lumina, and the invitation she’d extended to Luxerion; the foreboding city they were now bounding toward.

“You’re angry.”

Fang broke her focus away from the rain and cast murky jade eyes toward her partner. Vanille was seated opposite her, her bright gaze reflecting uncertainty as she wrung her hands in her lap. In response the hunter shook her head and uncurled herself into a less defensive posture.

“I just want you to be more careful, is all,” she warned. “We don’t know anything about the chaos. We don’t even know if we can trust what this _Order_ or whatever has to say about it either.”

“We should at least hear them out,” Vanille defended. “If I can save Dajh and whoever else I can from the chaos, I will. The Order of Salvation might be able to help.”

“And if they can’t, we go.”

“You’re so negative,” she huffed.

“Realistic is the word, my girl.”

They glanced toward the window again as the world outside began to slow, and the conductor announced their arrival into Luxerion. Once exiting the train car they stilled their pace to a halt, taking in the sight before them. Soldiers and citizens alike stood to either side of their path, their heads bowed in respect and their hands crossed over their chests.

A man stepped forward, adorned in flowing robes with an elaborate golden mask fashioned over his eyes. He wore a pleasant smile, and his voice was soft and kind.

“Oerba Dia Vanille. Oerba Yun Fang. This way, please.”

Fang fought the urge to simply grab Vanille and board the train again. Her instincts told her this was a trap. They knew they were coming. Someone had been watching them. But without a second thought the younger woman followed the man, leaving the hunter to reluctantly trail after her. A dark shadow cast itself over the waterlogged streets. She looked up to examine its source, finding a towering and grand cathedral. It was where they were headed by the looks of it.

-

_‘Sacred One. Your Holiness. She’s got a damn name, you bastards.’_

Fang sighed, annoyed at her inability to simply enjoy her walk without thinking of the Order. It was already hard enough to do – what with the clunky entourage of secutors flanking her at all times outside of the cathedral. The clergy insisted it was a precautionary measure, but to the hunter the guards felt less like sentries and more like spies.

It’d been little over a week since their arrival in Luxerion. The city’s people were nice enough, but the bigwigs heading the Order, well … they were a right bunch of overzealous snobs, if you asked her. They took themselves far too seriously for her taste. Not only that, they’d swooped in on Vanille straight off the bat. They fawned over her and told her whatever she wanted to hear, regardless of whether or not it was the truth. They called her ability to hear the dead a gift. They claimed God Himself had granted her such powers, so that she may play a part in His divine plan.

Some gift indeed.

With all their praise and persistence, they’d convinced Vanille to stay with them at the cathedral for the time being. She would be a beacon of hope to the lost, and an inspiration to the downtrodden people of Nova Chrysalia.

It was all so planned, as though they’d been expecting them for quite some time. Fang was skeptical of them for it, and the Order was well aware. They walked on eggshells around her, disturbed by the influence she held over Vanille. Begrudgingly they came to realize that history exaggerated nothing regarding the pair. The two were positively inseparable. The clergy could only have the younger Gran Pulsian’s attention for a few hours at a time before Fang came to collect her, and made clear she had no intention of sharing. This daily give and take exposed the abrasive relationship between the Yun and the Order.

On a cultural level they just couldn’t understand one another. One such point of disagreement was the Order’s insistence that they sleep in separate quarters. The High Priestess went so far as to scold Fang as she headed for Vanille’s room in the night – claiming it to be an invasion of privacy, and that the younger woman needed her rest for the morning’s prayers. She had to bite her tongue to keep from lashing out at the woman. It was only for the sake of peace that she let the comment slide and continued toward her partner’s chamber, all the while thinking of just how many ways she could keep Vanille awake.

Fang did not understand the Order’s aversion toward their relationship. There were a lot of things she could excuse and accommodate for, but this was not one of them. If the Order did not change its tone, she doubted she could ever find a home for herself and Vanille within its walls.

The four secutors that surrounded her began to slow their pace, tense as they whispered amongst themselves. When they stopped completely Fang broke free from her thoughts, eyes darting up to observe whatever caught their attention. On the wall of the cathedral’s stone gate bled a message in shining violet characters. Unable to decipher it, as it was written in a foreign alphabet, Fang nodded over to one of the guards.

“What’s it say?”

They hesitated, reluctant to relay the message.

“Come on. Out with it.”

They remained silent, and she clucked her tongue in irritation. She was about to give up on it when a familiar voice lifted into the air, reading out loud.

“Daughters of Etro, you betray Her Providence.”

“Fancy meeting you here,” Fang scoffed, peering up to find the pink haired child seated high atop the stone gate. “This is your work I take it?”

“You think so terribly of me, Fang. I’m hurt,” Lumina pouted, pressing her hand over her heart dramatically. “The Children of Etro are fond of leaving these sorts of messages around the city. They’re probably not too happy about you and Vanille staying in the house of Bhunivelze.”

 _‘They’re not alone,’_ Fang reflected internally.

“I’d be careful if I were you. They can be pretty dangerous.”

“So can I.”

In spite of the new threat Fang chose not to let it bother her. There was already too much to take in about their new world as it was. She’d find out more about these Etro worshippers some other time.

Without so much as another glance at Lumina she resumed her walk toward the cathedral entrance. The child was becoming a regular nuisance, with her sudden appearances and enigmatic words. Fang was also entirely convinced that she was stalking her and Vanille. She didn’t seem dangerous, but between Lumina and the Order’s ceaseless attention she was beginning to miss her privacy.

After a few short minutes Fang found herself outside of their chamber. She nodded dismissively to the secutors before knocking, and slipped passed the door without receiving a response. When the door was closed she leaned against it, watching as Vanille ceased pacing back and forth in the center of the room.

She furrowed her brow at the hunter. “Where were you?”

“Out. It’s pretty bleak in here. Thought you could use something to brighten up the place.”

She shifted her arm from behind her back and held out a bouquet of vivid flowers, which she’d procured at the marketplace. Vanille let out an excited squeak and hurried over to her, taking the flowers and breathing in their scent reverently. They were the first flowers she’d seen at all since arriving in Luxerion. Unwrapping them from their bundle she arranged them into an empty vase by the room’s ornate bay window.

She returned to Fang still carrying one of deep indigo, and reached up to tuck it behind the hunter’s ear – who in turn wrinkled her nose but did not resist. Vanille stood on her toes and placed an appreciative kiss against her lips. “Thank you, Fang.”

She smiled warmly, her palms resting on the girl’s hips. “What’s all the pacing about?”

Reminded, Vanille’s brows sunk again and she stepped away from Fang to resume her nervous fidgeting. “My stomach is in knots,” she confessed. “The High Priestess asked if I could preach at tomorrow’s mass.”

“If she asked then you could’ve declined, you know.”

Vanille shook her head. “No, I want to do it. It’s just – there’s going to be so many people, and life has been so hard for them. What could I possibly say to give them hope? What can I say that will be at all meaningful to them?”

She fussed with the beads across her abdomen, only looking up when she felt the light pressure of her partner’s hand atop her head. Fang gave her a confident smile. “I’m sure you’ll think of something in time. You’re good at that.”

“You think?”

She nodded. “You just got to be yourself. Your _real_ self. Tell them who you are, what you believe in. That’s enough to win over anybody.”

Vanille smiled, a faint blush painting her cheeks as she stared at the floor. In all her life, Fang was the only person she tried her best not to wear a mask around. It was easy to hide behind positivity and a cheerful disposition. It was much harder to let the world see you for who you were. Fang never had a problem with that. She wore her heart on her sleeve, and Vanille always envied her for it. But it also made the hunter predictable, and Vanille could gauge her partner’s reaction to most subjects with surprising accuracy. It was how she knew her next admission would not sit entirely well with the other woman.

“That wasn’t all the Order asked of me, either,” she began, reluctant.

“Oh?”

Vanille nodded, wringing her hands. “They want me to stay in Luxerion, to become a saint. They’ll teach me everything I need to know about the chaos, and how to master my new abilities. It’ll help me do the most good with what I’ve been given.”

“And that’s what you want?” Fang asked skeptically, crossing her arms.

“If it’ll bring peace to this world, yes.”

Fang fought to keep her disappointment from showing. She knew Vanille meant well, and only wanted to do good by the rest of the populace. But in spite of her better nature the subject roused a rather ugly and selfish side of the hunter. No doubt the Order would take Vanille away for hours, maybe days at a time to prepare her for sainthood. It would also cement them to this city, where Vanille would divide her time amongst all who needed her. But Fang needed her most.

Pursing her lips Fang leaned back against the door again, staring down at her crossed arms. “Divinity comes at a price, you know. What will you have to sacrifice?” The priests of Anima’s temple forewent most worldly pleasures for the sake of their post. She needed to ensure that Vanille explored every aspect of this agreement before she swore fealty to the Order.

“Mostly my time and energy,” the redhead answered. “I’ll be spending most of my days studying, or at mass.”

“You’ll still be able to leave Luxerion?”

“Yes, so long as I ask permission in advance. I can’t be gone for long, though.”

“And there’s no crazy celibacy rule, is there? You can still be with me?”

“Of course I can,” Vanille assured, her voice softening. She didn’t know if she wanted to embrace the woman or chastise her for even entertaining the thought. She would never become a saint at the expense of their relationship. She held herself back from expressing that fact, and waited instead for the hunter’s next inquiry.

Fang struggled to find the right words. She stared at the tile floor, her pulse escalating as she collected her nerve. “And, if you wanted – you could still bind yourself to another? You could still get married?”

Vanille didn’t answer, and the air hung heavy in the room. Unnerved the older woman’s gaze flickered up to meet her partner’s. She stared back at her with wide, astonished eyes, her lips slightly agape. Readjusting her posture against the wall Fang looked out of the window, inwardly cursing her lack of tact. “Just curious, is all,” she murmured.

“I – didn’t think to ask,” Vanille admitted airily. Her heart thundered in her chest, spurring her to press the hunter further. “Should I ask, Fang?”

Without visual cues Fang couldn’t decide whether Vanille sounded hesitant or hopeful. She could be so cryptic at times. She knew the question was double sided. If sainthood did forbid her from marrying, would she still want it? And would Fang be able to accept that? Of course they would still be together, but to be denied the binding ceremony she’d always wanted with Vanille was … disappointing.

Before Fang had the chance to answer a knock on the door intruded. She pushed off it and turned, opening the door to find a young attendant standing at the threshold.

“Ah! Good evening, Lady Fang. I came to inform you both that supper is served in the dining hall.”

“Thanks, Aremiah.” Fang gave her a subdued but grateful smile.

Sensing the tension in the room Aremiah glanced over the hunter’s shoulder to Vanille, who was trying her best to mask her frustration. “I’m sorry, have I interrupted something important?”

“No worries,” Fang assured. “Supper sounds great right about now. Ready, Vanille?”

The redhead pressed her lip, holding back the words she wanted to say, and nodded. With Aremiah leading the way they headed out of their room and down the corridor. As Vanille fell in stride with her partner she sought out her hand, holding it tightly at her side. Almost too tightly. Fang didn’t mind. Smiling to herself she gave a small squeeze in return, silently asking for her patience.

-

Her heels clicked the tile floor as she advanced, until they fell silent against the blue carpeted steps of the altar. She measured her breath to calm herself, and took a long moment to gather her nerve before turning to the sea of faces behind her. They sat packed into pews, stood in rows at the back and sides of the cathedral. Despite the large volume of people it remained uncannily silent. Not even the chaos spoke, as if it too waited for the sermon she was about to deliver.

Vanille’s lips parted, feeling as though she could not speak even if she tried to. She glanced over her shoulder to the High Priestess, who in turn gestured with her hand for the young woman to begin. She looked back out at the crowd, out to the bench she’d come from. Her eyes locked with Fang’s, and the older woman encouraged her with a supportive nod. She could almost hear the words behind the hunter’s expression, and it gave her strength.

Exhaling she closed her eyes, grounding herself. When they opened again she regarded the countless faces with calm resolve. Vanille spoke firmly, so that her story could reach each and every one of them.

“The thirteen days after we awoke were the beginning of the end …”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to my beta plus_minus.


	5. Oerba

-

9 8 7 A F

-

“Watch your step now.”

Fang held out her hand to help the younger woman. Vanille took it and made her way down the steps, mindful of her footing as she avoided the loose clumps of cement below. When she stood firmly on the ground the hunter walked closer to the airship and drummed against its side, signaling their dismount.

“Sure you don’t want me to stay?” the pilot called from the cockpit.

Fang shook her head and waved. “We’ll be fine. See you tomorrow.”

“And thank you!” Vanille added. She squeaked as the airship started its ascent, holding her pigtails so they wouldn’t whip at her face under the gust it produced.

The older woman watched it go for a long while, until it was a speck on the horizon. Only then did she breathe a sigh of relief. “Free at last.”

Vanille giggled at her side, and turned to look out at the view the bridge provided. “You sound like you’ve been held prisoner.”

“More or less,” Fang muttered, her hands resting on her hips. “You’re a hard person to get some alone time with, missy.”

“I’m alone with you every night,” the redhead defended, pushing her arm playfully.

“So you’d think. But for all we know that creepy little brat might be watching us even then.”

“I seriously doubt Lumina would want to spy on _anything_ we do in our bedroom,” Vanille told her, and a blush sprawled across her cheeks regardless.

The dark haired woman quirked her brow and smirked. “Oh? Maybe she’s into it. I’ll have to ask her next time and see if she turns as red as you are now.”

 _“Fang!_ _”_ she whined, and earned a chuckle from her love.

The hunter allowed herself this distraction for a moment more, before she turned her attention out to the valley beyond the bridge. She breathed in deeply, and wished that the air carried on it all the scents of their childhood. But it didn’t, and she considered it a precursor to what they would find in the village.

“Ready?” Vanille asked, her smallest finger tugging at Fang’s.

“Ready.”

Fang took her partner’s hand and they advanced toward the start of the tattered bridge. It felt almost surreal to be where they were, and alone for that matter. For weeks it had been the same routine, day in and day out. Always in Luxerion, always under the Order’s eye. Vanille had begun her studies, and Fang had taken to wandering around the city and cathedral to stave off her boredom. It was on one of these explorations that she came across a former member of the Academy, who shared with her some very important information.

Oerba had not been swallowed up by the chaos. As it was designated a Special Protected Zone centuries ago by Hope himself, it was not placed on the new maps of Nova Chrysalia – for fear that it would be plundered or tampered with. According to the man it remained remarkably untouched, from both humans and the chaos alike.

It took little to convince Vanille to come with her, and the Order for once was surprisingly lenient. She imagined they thought that bringing the girl back to Oerba for a short while would aid in her self-reflection. Whatever their motives were, she was grateful for their assistance. The trains did not run this far, and there were only a handful of working airships left in existence. Though she would never admit it out loud, this trip might not have been possible without the Order’s help.

What the man in Luxerion said was true. Oerba was just the way they’d left it several centuries ago, with a few small exceptions. The countless Cie’th that once infested the village were missing – put out of their misery by the Academy, no doubt. An addition to the ruins now stood in their place. Beside the large, ancient tree at the top of the village rested a monument. Its stoneface was decorated with an elaborate frieze of Cocoon suspended on its pillar, two women lying asleep atop its surface. The inscription below read in both languages, marking the site as a memorial and mass grave to the lost souls of Oerba.

“Hope grew into such a kind man,” Vanille whispered, wiping at the corner of her eye. “I wish he was still here. He did so much for us while we were asleep.”

Fang wrapped her arm around her shoulders, squeezing supportively as her eyes swept over the monument. Maybe he too had a memorial, somewhere up and out of their reach on the abandoned Bhunivelze. If they could not thank him in person, they could at least find a way to pay their respects. After all, without Hope, they would’ve never survived the fall of Cocoon. He saved their lives.

They stayed there awhile longer in prayer, then left the gravesite for the heart of the village. As they walked through the square they could almost envision the vendors that set up shop on carts and tables along the cobblestone walls. Oerba was a port village; the streets were always bustling with locals and visitors brought by sea and train. To see the large space so empty and void of life was unsettling.

Placing her hand on the rail Vanille led them both up a stairwell and into the place they once called home for a time. Fang gave a half hearted smirk at the interior’s condition, which hadn’t changed much from their initial visit hundreds of years prior. The floor creaked, and the air was heavy and stale. Most fabrics had weathered away, and those that remained were dry rotted and frail enough to disintegrate beneath the slightest touch. It really was a sad sight to behold, but then again it was never a marvel to begin with. It was a makeshift home born of necessity.

The orphanage she and Vanille had grown up in had already been destroyed, along with half of the village. The industrial buildings around the port were all that remained of Oerba after an attack from a Cocoon fal’Cie. They made do with what they had, and repurposed the buildings to suit their needs. The quarters were cramped, but the communal drive during those trying times ensured that no one went without a meal or a place to lay their head at night.

Fang had wanted to do everything in her power to help the village recover. With the bridge and port in shambles they lost their foothold on trade. She and the surviving hunters kept Oerba from going hungry, braving the wild for food and traveling to neighboring villages to barter for all they lacked. So long as their people were safe and cared for it didn’t matter how many times she risked her life. She was content to spend the rest of her years fighting to protect Oerba.

That was when the priests of Anima chose to summon her – right when the people needed her most. She knew from the start it was a death sentence. The holy men gave them no alternative. It was either become l’Cie or die by their hand. Fang would be damned if she became a slave to Anima; the fal'Cie that had refused to lift a finger as Oerba was attacked. If it was that or death then she was fully prepared to accept the latter. To fight, and scream, and go down swinging. But Vanille had followed her, and shaped their history into what it was now.

In light of everything that transpired in those days, it really didn’t surprise her that she’d become Ragnarok. However dreary Nova Chrysalia might be, it was nothing compared to the dark times of war on Gran Pulse. She was still unable to recall the events that took place after they were branded. Trauma had ripped them from her mind. Vanille knew, however, and she bore the weight of those memories alone – refusing to share, no matter how Fang tried to persuade her.

“Everything okay?”

Fang blinked, pulled from her thoughts. Vanille removed the pack from her back and set it on one of the bunks, her bright eyes concerned and fixed on her. She shrugged, nonchalant. “Just remembering old times.”

“Happy memories, right?” Vanille chirped, smiling faintly. She already knew otherwise.

Fang gave a low chuckle. “Sure, why not.”

“Which one were you thinking about?” She walked over, placing her hands on Fang’s chest innocently as she leaned against her.

The taller woman pursed her lips in thought, before a grin spread across her face. “How ‘bout the time little Darin spilled ink in your hair.”

“Fang that was a _disaster!”_ Vanille exclaimed, looking offended. “That’s so mean, I had to cut my hair and everything.”

“It was an accident,” she reminded, her finger absently twirling around one of her pink locks. “Besides, you looked cute with those stubby little pigtails.”

Vanille let out a peal of giggles, moving closer as she snaked her arms around Fang’s middle and rested her head against her chest. The other reciprocated by wrapping her arm around the girl’s back, her other hand coming up to stroke her hair.

“It’s quiet here,” Fang murmured after a while. She’d gotten used to the ambient noise of Luxerion, where there always seemed to be something loud happening in the city or cathedral. Silence was strange, but not altogether unwelcome.

The redhead didn’t respond, and instead nuzzled herself closer to the other woman. Fang could feel her fingertips pressing into her back as her grip around her tightened. Her brow furrowed, before a sigh escaped her lips at a sudden realization. “It’s not quiet at all, is it?”

Vanille shook her head against her. “They’re really loud around here.”

“Shit. Sorry, Vanille.” Fang rested her cheek against the girl’s hair, holding her more securely. They hadn’t come across the chaos at all in Oerba, but it clouded the majority of the steppes and crystal desert that surrounded the village. In the silence of the ruins there was little to distract Vanille from the doleful cries of the dead.

To keep her partner happy Fang sought to become that distraction, the curve of her lips playful as she pulled away from her partially. “You know, it looked like most of the forest’s grown back on the eastern border. How about we take a look? We might be able to find those flowers you like so much.”

Vanille flashed her a smile. “And if I find them and make a pretty wreath will you wear it?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves now,” Fang diverted, and led the younger woman back into the open with an arm around her shoulders.

-

A plume of embers shot into the sky as Fang tossed another log onto the fire she’d made. She clapped her hands to rid them of dirt before placing them on her hips, her gaze turning for the umpteenth time toward the schoolhouse roof. It used to be Vanille’s favorite spot inside of the village. She would spend hours up there beside the flowerbeds, propping her head in her hands and staring up at the luminescent surface of Cocoon with reluctant admiration. Now she sat and stared out at empty black sky and a sea of crystal dust. She’d been like that for most of the night.

Fang frowned, a sigh unconsciously escaping her lips. Maybe it hadn’t been such a great idea to visit Oerba, after all. She’d tried her very best to keep Vanille distracted from the chaos, but there was only so much she could do. She wished it were something as simple as plugging the girl’s ears, but the voices were telepathic in nature. They always found their way through. Vanille could block them out with mental fortitude and energy, but after hours of constant use both had understandably depleted. When that happened her mood plummeted faster than Fang could comprehend. She’d begged the hunter not to fuss over her, and to allow her some time alone. Though Fang didn’t like it, she couldn’t help but oblige.

Pulling her eyes away from the forlorn form of her love Fang forced herself to sit. It took less than a minute before her knee started to fidget, and she combed her hand through her hair in frustration. Her nerves were a wreck. This wasn’t at all what she envisioned for their trip, and she wondered if there was any way to come back from it. Reaching behind her she patted the holster on her belt, her fingers pressing over its pocket to locate the object within. Reassured that it was still there, she attempted to shift her mind toward more positive thoughts.

The week prior she secretly went to a jeweler in Luxerion, and commissioned him to fashion a necklace out of the crystal shard they’d woken up with. He’d smoothed and polished it to a vibrant sheen, and suspended it from a silvery thin chain of mythril that clasped the stone in an open and elegant design. She knew Vanille would love the modifications. She was just having a difficult time mustering up the courage to give it to her.

Fang, a coward. It was almost laughable. But she allowed herself this weakness, just this once. She wanted to get it right.

The necklace was intended to be an engagement gift.

On this trip, Fang was hoping she would have the chance to ask Vanille to stay with her forever. It was a silly sentiment, she knew, as they were already inseparable to begin with. Not to mention they’d already promised to stay with one another, well over a millennium ago on Gran Pulse. Regardless she wanted to remind Vanille that her feelings for her remained unyielding, and that she would love and support her no matter where the future took them. Moreover, she had to admit, she wanted the rest of the world to acknowledge that they were bound to one another. Especially the Order. She would not allow them to delegitimize their relationship any further. Vanille belonged with her.

Movement caught her eye and she turned toward the rooftop again, watching as the redhead stood and made her way down the stairs. By the time she arrived at the village square Fang’s gaze had gone back to the fire, feigning as though she hadn’t been surveilling the girl since her departure after supper. When she reached the fireside Vanille sat quietly beside Fang and leaned against her. The older woman instinctively wrapped her arm around her shoulder, her cheek nuzzling the girl’s hair.

They stayed like that for a while, silent. Fires were always communal events in Oerba. They invited people to come together after a long day and exchange news and stories. If Fang squinted hard enough at the flame, she could almost see the flicker of phantom children chasing each other by its warm glow. She remembered the hearty laughter of her fellow hunters as they cooked the meat of their kills, arguing in good humor over who accomplished most during their hunt. She bared the brunt of most of their teasing, as she was typically the most successful.

Oerba seemed so lifeless without them.

But, she had Vanille.

“Feeling any better?” she asked, kissing her hair.

Vanille shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“No reason to apologize,” Fang hushed, squeezing her shoulders as she looked skyward. “If I’d have known this place was surrounded by the chaos, I wouldn’t have asked you to come with me. Or, maybe I wouldn’t have gone at all.”

The smaller girl didn’t respond, and she continued her reflections out loud to fill the silence. “To be honest I don’t really know what I was expecting. I heard Oerba was still around and my mind took off with all these fantasies, you know? Thought we might be able to make it what it was, over time.” She paused, then gently shook her head. “But this place feels more like a tomb than a home.”

Vanille nodded, quietly agreeing. “We paid our respects. Now we should let it be.”

Fang smiled thinly, conscious of how drained the younger woman sounded. Her hand traced lazy patterns against her arm, hoping to soothe her as she continued. “It would have been a pain to rebuild anyway. By the time we’d finish the whole world would be set to end.”

She didn’t hold her tongue, as Vanille already knew the fate of their present world. Dropping that little slice of reality on her was one of the Order’s first issues of business. She’d stayed up all night consoling the distraught girl thanks to those zealots and their flair for melodramatics. Her love was happier not knowing, and Fang wished she could have stayed that way a while longer.

“The best thing to do would be to settle someplace established,” she mused. “There were hunters in the Wildlands – said they had an entire village based in the forest. I bet it’s the closest to Oerba we’re ever going to find in Nova Chrysalia. Maybe we should take a look. We might like it.”

Vanille shook her head. “I’m needed in Luxerion.”

“Right.” Fang suppressed a sigh and turned her attention back to the fire. “Maybe not now, but we could make it our next field trip.”

“Or you could go alone.”

Fang’s ears perked, almost missing the low murmur. When the words sunk in she stiffened slightly. “What was that?”

“Fang.” Vanille hesitated, pulling away from the woman to look into her eyes. Her own bright green irises shimmered with uncertainty. “I know you don’t like it in Luxerion,” she began, her voice small and sad. “You belong out in the wilderness. The city’s no place for you – it never was. If you want to stay in Oerba, or the Wildlands, then you should. I want you to be happy, Fang. Even if that means we can’t be together all the time.”

The hunter’s gaze flickered over hers, willing her pulse to slow its thunder through her veins. Vanille’s words worried her. What she was trying to imply and what Fang had in mind were alarmingly polar ideas. Bringing her hands up she cupped Vanille’s face, running her thumbs across her soft cheeks as she shook her head dismissively. “I don’t want to be away from you.”

“You’d be happier.”

“No I wouldn’t,” Fang insisted, pressing her forehead against hers as she shut her eyes. “I don’t care if I have to live in Luxerion, if that’s where you need to be. So long as we’re together. No village or ruin is ever going to feel like home if you’re not there with me.”

“Fang …”

The hunter drew back to look at her again. She needed to ask her. If not then, when? Steeling her resolve she spoke her truth softly, “Back on Cocoon when we were separated – at one point I seriously thought I’d lost you for good. It was terrifying. I never want to feel like that again, not if I can help it. I want you by my side, so that I can look after you. So that I can _protect_ you. I want …”

Fang exhaled and bowed her head, frustrated with her nerves. Her hands fell down from the woman’s face to clasp her smaller ones in her own, squeezing them. The words and feelings were all there. Why couldn’t she get them out?

“Vanille, I …” Her voice caught in her throat, and before she could find it again she felt a gentle tug as her partner pulled her hands out from hers.

“No more tonight. Please.”

Fang’s eyes shot up to meet hers, confused, but Vanille’s gaze was downcast. “What’s wrong?” she asked nervously.

“Nothing,” she murmured, then shifted to stand. “I’m just … really tired, Fang. I’m heading to bed.”

When she turned to leave the hunter caught her hand gently, stilling her movements.  
  
“Vanille.  _Talk_ to me,” she pled, her voice low but soft. “Please.”

The younger woman’s head dropped, and she said nothing. Their fingers skimmed together as she reluctantly pulled away, until Fang could no longer reach her. The hunter watched her climb the steps to their old home in stunned silence. She had the urge to follow after her, to demand an answer as to why she was acting so strangely. But she knew it wasn’t a good idea. Vanille was upset, and Fang wasn’t feeling entirely alright after that exchange either.

“What was that about?” Fang muttered under her breath, glaring into the fire and crossing her arms over her knees. Her foot tapped the ground anxiously as her mind ran through what had just transpired. Vanille practically jumped out of her arms and ran away. What had she done to make the girl so upset?

Maybe she knew what Fang was going to ask. Her heart sunk at the treasonous thought. What if Vanille knew she was going to propose? What if she didn’t want that? Or, what if she did – and the Order forbade it? Had she chosen them over her after all?

“Shit,” Fang growled, gripping her bangs in frustration. She was getting herself worked up in a frenzy with doubt. She wanted to believe she was reading too heavily into the situation, but she knew her partner. If Vanille was tired she’d have just fallen asleep in her arms, or would try to persuade her to come to bed. She also knew when she was hurting, and could get to the root of most discrepancies with a few coaxing words. Everything about this encounter told her that Vanille was shutting her out, and she didn’t like it one bit.

Reaching back into her pocket she pulled out the pendant, dangling it on her finger as it glimmered in the light of the fire. “So much for that plan,” she sighed, leaning her chin against her unoccupied hand. She’d just have to try again. Someday.

Fang sat in the square for a while longer, trying to ease her troubled mind. She couldn’t stop herself from obsessing over Vanille’s behavior. Even the crystal facets of the necklace seemed to reflect back a phantom image of the distraught younger woman. Convinced that she was seeing things Fang pocketed the stone and rubbed at her eyes. The best thing she could do for now was sleep off her horrid mood. She’d know what to do in the morning.

After smothering the fire with a pail of dirt Fang unhurriedly made her way toward their makeshift home atop the storage warehouse. The windows were dark, and she surmised that Vanille must have already gone to sleep. Her footsteps were quiet in their ascent, mindful not to wake her. But she soon heard a loud sniffle from inside the room, and she stopped to listen just outside of the open door.

“I know. I’m sorry. It must be so hard for you.”

It took the hunter a moment to register what she was hearing, and when it did her sympathy mutated into bitter aggravation. She stormed through the threshold and into the sleeping quarters. Before Vanille could react to the sudden intrusion Fang drew her lance and whipped it through the air, breaking up a large black cloud.

Vanille gasped as the energy dispersed, her hands flying to her ears as if to protect them from a harsh noise. From the bunk she shot hurt, angry eyes up at her partner. “Why did you do that?!”

“Are you kidding me?” Fang shot back, just as riled. “This is why you’re up here? Why you practically ran away from me? So you could go talking to the _chaos?”_

“That wasn’t why I left,” Vanille defended, blinking away tears as she fixed her gaze stubbornly on a corner of the bed.

“You need to _stop_ engaging with them,” the hunter pressed in exasperation. “Can’t you see you’re inviting your own damn misery? They only keep showing up because _you_ won’t turn them away.”

“What else am I supposed to do, Fang?”

“Ignore them!”

“They’re suffering.”

“So are you!”

“It doesn’t matter how I feel!” Vanille shouted back, her eyes fierce and glistening as they met hers again. “A lot of these souls are in the chaos because of _us_ , Fang. _We_ did this!”

Fang’s throat went tight, momentarily speechless. She watched as the girl slowly gave into her sobs again, pulling her limbs tight as she crumpled into herself.

“Why shouldn’t we suffer for what we did?” she lamented miserably. “How can we deserve to be happy after so many people _died_ because of us?”

The hunter didn’t respond. Vanille gave her a desperate look and turned to lie facing the wall, her arms still wrapped protectively around herself.

“You can’t think like that, Vanille,” Fang said, her voice deep and somber when she finally found it. “You just can’t.”

Vanille dismissed the words with a shake of her head. “We did this,” she repeated, partially to herself as she shook with quiet tears. “And we did this to Oerba.”

Fang flinched, pain gripping her heart. She didn’t want to think about that, but she knew Vanille was right. All the Cie’th that once roamed the village were branded by Pulse. She wondered if Anima itself was responsible, sending its tendrils out to whomever it could reach as Barthandelus tore it from the land. What impossible focus were the people of Oerba given? Did they turn Cie’th the very instant their guardian fal’Cie disappeared beyond the clouds? And what of the fate of those who were spared Anima’s brand, defenseless as their village was overrun with powerful, heartless monsters?

Brave elders and hunters. Kind women and children. Fang remembered each and every one of their faces, their names. She didn’t want to think about what had befallen them. What was the point in making herself miserable? They were gone, and had been for centuries now. Whether or not they were in any way indirectly responsible was irrelevant. She knew more than anything that the villagers would not fault them for what happened. They would want them to stay strong, and cherish the life they no longer had. They would want them both to live happily.

But Vanille was so very unhappy, and it was tearing Fang apart.

Drained, the hunter limply dropped her spear against the wall and crawled onto the bunk beside her love. Her arms wrapped securely around the girl from behind, crushing her to her as she tucked her head into the crook of Vanille’s shoulder. Curled around her small frame Fang could feel every tremor as the sobs wracked through her body. Practically choking on her partner’s pain she clamped her eyes shut, tears of her own threatening to spill over. She didn’t know what to do, so she held Vanille as tightly as she could and buried her face in her pink locks.

She didn’t let her go, and stayed like that well after the girl exhausted herself to sleep.

-

“You have everything?” Fang asked from the doorway.

Vanille’s bright eyes scanned the living space. There wasn’t much left that was salvageable, and the few possessions she treasured were already long gone. Furrowing her brow she nodded. “I wish Bhakti was still here.”

“It’s gotta be around somewhere,” the older woman assured, trying to be positive. “I bet Hope took it, along with that photograph of us and the stuffed chocobo you made. A bandit wouldn’t steal such silly things.”

“You think?”

“Sure.” Fang flashed her a smile before heading down the stairs. Glancing off into the horizon she could see the slowly advancing airship beyond the hillside. It would be at the bridge in fifteen minutes’ time, she estimated. Once she reached the bottom of the steps she spread her arms out in a stretch, walking out of the shadow of the building and into the warm morning sunlight.

“Hey, Fang?”

A touch on her shoulder interrupted her, and she turned around to face her partner. Vanille retracted her hand, curling it against her chest as her eyes darted nervously between the hunter and the stone floor of the square.

“I know we already apologized earlier, but – I really mean it. I feel terrible that I snapped at you like that last night. I’m sorry, Fang.”

Fang smiled and took a step closer. Cupping Vanille’s face she leaned down and planted a kiss against her forehead. “You’re going through a lot,” she defended, pulling back to look at her as she ran her thumb across her cheek. “I won’t blame you for getting upset. It can’t be easy having to put up with all that.”

Vanille wrapped her arms around Fang’s middle and nuzzled her chest, “Having you around helps though.”

“Is that so?” The hunter’s brow arched skeptically, her hands coming to rest on the girl’s hips. “Then why’d you run off on me last night, mm? I could’ve distracted you from all those nasty thoughts you were having.”

“And how were you going to do that?” Vanille asked, amusement in her tone.

“I could think of a few ways,” Fang teased.

Vanille giggled softly as she pulled back to look up at her. She regarded the hunter with kind and loving eyes as she squeezed her middle encouragingly. “You were going to say something – before I left. It sounded important. Do you remember what it was?”

Fang’s lips parted slightly, searching the girl’s gaze for any hint that she might already know. But her partner stared back with innocent curiosity, and for some reason that made it harder. With a gentle laugh at her own cowardice Fang shook her head, then instructed the redhead softly. “Turn around.”

Blinking in confusion Vanille did as she was told, Fang’s hands leaving her hips as she heard them rustle around for something behind her. They reemerged in her peripheral to drape a delicate weight around her neck, fastening it and gently removing her pigtails from under its loop. Her hands then came to rest atop her shoulders, and she gave them a small squeeze.

“What d’you think?”

Taking the pendant into her hand Vanille looked down to examine it. When she realized what it was her features lit up, and she let out an excited squeak. “Fang, you made it look so beautiful!” She spun around and placed her hands on her chest, beaming up at her brightly.

“Yeah?”

Fang’s lips tugged into a smile, her gaze flickering over the younger woman’s brilliant green eyes. She wondered if Vanille would have had the same reaction, had she given her the necklace the way she’d initially intended to. Instead of dwelling on it the hunter moved her attention downward, smoothing her fingertips over the stone. It hung perfectly around her neck, lying beneath the girl’s chokers and inside the small V created by the leather straps of her beaded adornment. A happy coincidence, as though the space was made for it.

“Figured you’d want to wear it,” she mused distractedly.

“We found it together, though,” Vanille responded, her hands snaking further up to Fang’s shoulders. “We should share it!”

Scrunching her nose at the idea the dark haired woman chuckled, her own hands falling to the girl’s sides. “If that’s what you want. But I’m sure it looks better on you.”

Grinning brightly Vanille leaned into her, rising onto her toes and pulling Fang down to press their lips together. The hunter pulled her arms more tightly around her small frame and deepened their kiss. They stayed wrapped in each other’s embrace until the hum of the rapidly approaching airship pressured them to part. Neither seemed eager to greet the vehicle that would take them back to Luxerion, and Fang took the time to silently brush a few strands of hair from the girl’s eyes.

“Together forever, right?” she asked softly, reminding her of the promise they’d made so many centuries back.

“Even after that,” Vanille assured, lacing her fingers with the other woman’s. Hand in hand they advanced across the village toward where the airship landed in wait for them.

Fang watched Vanille out of the corner of her eye as they went, a small but resigned smile across her lips. So long as they were together, the formalities of their relationship didn’t matter in the end. Whatever Vanille wanted, she would let her have it. Even if she felt slighted by the Order and desired more with the woman beside her. All that mattered was Vanille’s safety and happiness. Fang was willing to take a backseat in her partner’s life if that was what the girl needed. She wouldn’t put any additional pressures on her, not unless she asked. She would be there to support and protect Vanille no matter what – and that was enough of a promise to bind the two of them together.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Notes & Chapter References:
> 
> There are a lot of references to FFXIII: Episode Zero in here. Fang's last line in this chapter is a response to Vanille's in CH02 of 'Tomorrow'; "We'll be together forever ... no matter what happens, we'll never be apart."
> 
> Again, the crystal mentioned in this chapter is involved in the Lightning Returns quest "The Saint's Stone". 
> 
> I thought it might be a stretch for Oerba to still exist, but I really liked the idea of exploring their backstory more. There was so much left unexplained about their lives in Oerba and I wanted to fill in the gaps a little.
> 
> Thanks again to my beta plus_minus, and thank you to anyone who commented or sent kudos! It is much appreciated.


	6. Fanatics

(Chapter warning: violence)

-

9 9 0 A F

-

Vanille hummed as she surveyed the produce laid out in the marketplace. She always enjoyed when the vendors from the Wildlands rode in to sell their wares in Luxerion. The taste of Pandemonium’s imports paled in comparison to naturally grown vegetables, nurtured and tended to by hard working farmers along the rolling steppes.

Through with her services for the evening, Vanille was inspired to surprise Fang with a Gran Pulsian home-cooked meal. Too often they ate whatever the Order provided in the dining hall, which Fang made to her liking with a borderline lethal serving of salt. She knew her partner’s palate as well as she knew her own, and was confident she could make something the hunter would absolutely love. Fang promised she would be back from her daytrip by supper, and Vanille grinned – imagining the woman’s reaction as she would lead her off to a secluded area of the cathedral to dine in private. Maybe she could even find a few candles to make the scene as romantic as possible.

A small chuckle floated on the breeze, distracting her from her thoughts as it echoed loudly in her mind. It stood out from all the background chatter of the commercial district, sounding almost ethereal in nature. She glanced around the vicinity, wondering if there were any young children nearby that could have been responsible. When she didn’t see any her brows furrowed, and the cheerful giggle penetrated her thoughts a second time. It sounded so familiar. Where had she heard it before?

Suddenly it registered, and a gasp of surprise escaped her lips. “Dajh?”

Vanille’s bright eyes flickered around the marketplace, trying again to locate the source of the voice. Finally she caught the tailend of a wisp of chaos as it ghosted around the corner of a building. Dropping her basket to the ground she jerked to follow after it, but stopped herself. She was not permitted to leave without an escort. Impatiently she looked over her shoulder toward her guards, finding them too far away and in the middle of some silly debate with a vendor. By the time they would reach her through the crowd the child’s soul might already be gone.

She couldn’t let that happen.

“Dajh! Wait!”

Meandering through the mass of people Vanille sprinted after the cloud and away from the busy market. She chased it down a labyrinth of alleyways, finding her way by following the distant sound of laughter. Fixated on her task she failed to notice when the streets became desolate, and the buildings more decrepit. She slowed to a halt when she arrived at a four-way intersection, panting as she strained her ears for the child’s voice.

“Come on, Dajh. Where did you go?”

Her hands fell to her knees as she caught her breath, hanging her head in frustration. She was so close to bringing him back to Sazh. He couldn’t disappear on her, not now. Clenching her jaw she straightened her posture again, determined not to give up.

But just as she was about to take off again something dropped from the rooftop behind her. Before she could react a cloth was thrown over her head, and a cord constricted around her neck so tightly she feared it would suffocate her. A large hand clamped itself over her mouth to stop her from crying out, and she felt herself being dragged. Struggling Vanille tried to think of a quick way to free herself. Despite her plethora of spells the Order forbade her from using harmful magic. But her life was in danger. Did it not call for self-defense?

Vanille’s hand groped the air blindly until it landed on the captor’s arm. She gripped it tightly and sent a wave of electricity crashing through their body, causing their muscles to seize and release her. She hit the ground hard on her back, heaving to get air into her lungs as she heard a man hollered in pain nearby. She needed to get away. She tried to roll onto her side but wasn’t quick enough. Having already recovered her angry assailant retaliated. Her mind rang with pain as he struck the side of her head with a powerful kick, and the world spun and blackened around her. She was out before she even knew what happened.

-

Fang stepped off the train and exited the north station, a leisure to her step as she made her way through the plaza. Though she hated to be so far from Vanille, sometimes it was necessary to get away from the holy city for a few hours. They’d spent three years in Luxerion, living a tamer existence than Fang had ever thought possible. Not that she was complaining entirely, but at times she did find herself bored to pieces.

Vanille had been spending more and more time with the Order to prepare her for sainthood, all her efforts culminating in a ceremony that would take place in the coming days. Without her love to keep her company, Fang sought to occupy herself with pastimes she could not indulge in the prudish city they called home. She would take daytrips to visit their friend the Patron in Yusnaan. And to sate her need for excitement she competed regularly in the arena, steadily rising in rank until she’d become one of their most formidable contenders. She’d gotten into the habit of asking Snow to heal her before returning to Luxerion, as she didn’t want her partner finding out about her dangerous little hobby. But somewhere along the line word reached Vanille anyway, and Fang had gotten an earful for it.

Yusnaan was not the only place Fang would visit. When she felt more adventurous she went to the Wildlands. That more than anything felt like a second home to her. Looking out onto the wide steppes and thriving wildlife was like going back in time to Gran Pulse. Even the people there were better company; easygoing yet hardworking. Not only did they accept the challenges of their environment, they’d intentionally sought them out.

Jagd Village was exceptionally welcoming of her. Its inhabitants wanted to learn as much as they could about the hunters of ancient Pulse, and it humbled her to provide that insight. With each visit she would divulge just a little more of her people’s tactics, and would share stories from both the Yun clan and Oerba alike.

Though these new hunters descended from the people of Cocoon, Fang couldn’t help but find them kindred. They’d asked her to stay and live in the village, and she would be lying if she said she’d never entertained that fantasy. A rough and tumble existence like theirs was all she craved in Oerba, back before the fal’Cie intruded on their lives. Settling in Jagd and heading a hunting party would have kept her content for the remainder of her days. But her heart was in Luxerion. She could never leave Vanille, and the girl was practically leashed to the cathedral.

If only Vanille hadn’t woken up with those damned powers. They could have spent the time they had left living together in the Wildlands, picking up where they left off centuries ago. Fang sighed, pushing away her wistful thinking. There was no sense in pining over a life they couldn’t have.

A group of secutors bolted from the cross street, and she stopped short to let them pass. A guard toward the rear of the party spotted her and skid to a halt. “Lady Fang,” he gasped, panic evident in his voice. “Have you found the Sacred One?”

The hunter was silent as she processed what he’d asked of her, then her brows sunk dangerously. “I just got here. And you’d better not be saying what I think you are,” she warned.

“Her Holiness has gone missing. We’ve been unable to locate her since late this afternoon.”

“What?” Fang hissed. Without another word she shoved passed the guard and sprinted for the cathedral.

-

She searched everywhere she thought the girl might be – every one of her favorite spots, every nook she would tuck herself into while studying. She asked the staff along the way if they’d seen her and received the same useless response. After half an hour of frantic searching Fang concluded that Vanille was not on the premises.

Leaning against the hallway wall outside of their quarters Fang clasped a hand over her eyes in frustration, her mind running through all the places she’d checked. Vanille was good about following the rules of the Order. She never went anywhere beyond the cathedral without informing one of her attendants or the secutors first. She certainly couldn’t have left Luxerion either, as that in itself was a huge ordeal as far as permission was concerned. Even if that were the case, she would have been spotted on her way to either train by the guards posted outside of the stations.

If Vanille disappeared without so much as a word to anyone, it could only mean something happened to her. Anxiety swelled within Fang at the thought, and she immediately regretted her trip to Yusnaan. Had she stayed in Luxerion she could have protected the younger woman. But even then, would she have been able to? She’d simply vanished according to the secutors. No sign of struggle, no warning, and no evidence as to where she might be.

How was that even possible?

She could think of only one cause, and it sent an icy chill running down her spine. Almost without thought Fang pushed off the wall and rushed toward the Hall of Devotion. She ignored the clergy as they loudly prayed for the girl’s return, and strode passed the altar and down the set of stairs behind it. Though she seldom visited this part of the cathedral she could navigate the shadowy halls with relative ease. When she came to a set of engraved doors she pushed them open, stepping into a mostly empty room with a high ceiling.

Fang slowed her pace to a hesitant gait, until she stopped at the base of a towering staircase. It led up to a domed altar where a large mass of chaos swirled, as if confined to the space. She swallowed dryly, placing her foot on the first step. If the chaos had taken Vanille she’d have to go in after her. But if it hadn’t, she’d be putting herself in a dangerous mess for nothing, and Vanille would likely still be in trouble.

She didn’t know what to do. Once the chaos consumed someone they never came back. Aside from the monsters, she knew of only one individual who could traverse the chaos unimpeded.

“Lumina!” Fang shouted, her voice echoing across the sculpted architecture. “If you’re here come out. I need to talk to you.”

The hunter waited a few moments in uneasy silence, before her eyes locked onto the dark cloud of chaos as it drew into itself and amassed. The energy dispersed to reveal the pink haired child sitting cross-legged at the top step, a mischievous smile etched across her face as she peered down at the woman.

“A personal invitation from the mighty Yun Fang? To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Fang sneered at her playful tone. Over the years she’d never truly warmed up to the girl, though their relationship was not entirely hostile either. She just couldn’t bring herself to trust her, for whatever reason. This situation called for a truce, however, as Lumina was possibly the only person who could help her. “Vanille’s gone missing,” she confided, her gaze flickering to the ground and then up again. “I need your help to find her. Please.”

“Oh? What’s so special about me?”

“You can see into the chaos,” Fang insisted. “Can you tell if it has Vanille?”

Lumina shrugged, resting her chin against her palm as she tilted her head with feigned curiosity. “I have a way to find out. What would you do if she _was_ in the chaos?”

“I’d go after her, what else?”

“Even if there’s no guarantee you’ll find her? Or even find your way back?”

“Whatever it takes,” she answered impatiently. “We’re running out of time. Do you know where she is or not?”

Lumina didn’t respond immediately, delighting too much in the way Fang’s skin seemed to crawl the longer she regarded her with an unreadable smile. “Fortunately for you, she’s not in the chaos,” she said, and paused with a smirk as the woman exhaled in relief. “ _Un_ fortunately for you, however – she’s still in danger.”

Fang stood rigid, fighting to stave off her panic. “Where is she?”

“The Children of Etro have her,” Lumina told her matter-of-factly. “They’re probably waiting for nightfall to sacrifice her.”

“What? _Why_ _?”_

“Why else? To get rid of her before she becomes a saint.”

“Where can I find them?”

“Their hideaway is in the Warren, but you might have trouble getting through the gate on your own.” The chaos began to reemerge around her, surrounding Lumina’s form until only her taunting voice remained. “I’d hurry if I were you. It’s already sunset.”

Clenching her jaw Fang spun and raced for the corridor.

-

“Open it.”

The large gate in front of her was sealed, guarded by a broad shouldered man in a white cloak. In spite of her demand he remained rooted at his post, arms crossed defiantly.

“You’re in the wrong part of town,” the man graveled, regarding her with a look of contempt. “We don’t answer to the Order around here. Especially not to the likes of _you_.”

“ _Open_ the gate,” Fang repeated, her tone impatient and threatening. “You don’t want to get in my way.”

“I think that’s our line, traitor.”

At movement in her peripheral Fang’s gaze darted back to the square. Masked men and women dressed similarly to the guard slowly filed into the alleyway, their eyes dangerous and locked on her form. Her grip around her spear tightened in consequence, and she turned her attention back to the gatekeeper.

“I don’t know what your problem is, but if you want to take your frustration out on anyone it should be me. Let Vanille go.”

“Out of the question,” the man barked. “We worship the Goddess. We revered you too once, before you awoke and became dogs to the Order of Salvation. The both of you have turned your backs to Her Providence, and She shall have justice!”

A war cry erupted from the crowd of disciples behind her, and Fang twisted and narrowly evaded a throwing knife aimed for her back. It struck the gatekeeper in the chest, causing the surprised man to holler in pain and collapse to the ground. Fang whirled to face the mass, swinging her lance into a defensive position in front of her. Like a hive mind the group rushed forward as a unit, armed and intent to kill. She growled and readied her weapon for their attack. It didn’t matter how outnumbered she was. They were in her way to Vanille, and she’d strike each of them down if they tried to stop her.

Just as her spear crashed against the blade of a scythe, a man leapt from the top of the gate and landed beside her. He barreled into the crowd, pushing them back and clearing a path to the center of the square. She followed, fighting the disciples as she went, until she was back to back with her new ally.

“Having some trouble?” He asked, his focus on the enemies that surrounded them.

“No more than usual,” Fang chided back, and adjusted her stance to take the offensive.

In unison the two broke away from each other, strategically dividing the group in half. Something about the worshippers’ demeanor had changed, as though they were suddenly too flabbergasted to retaliate. Within a matter of minutes the horde was felled on the stone floor, worse for wear but still alive.

Fang grimaced at the prone, groaning bodies before turning to face her comrade. He sheathed his double blade across his back and nodded to her, the ghost of a smile gracing his lips as he spoke in a collected voice. “It’s nice to finally meet you, though I wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Noel Kreiss,” Fang identified, looking him up and down. It was her first time seeing him in person. “Thanks for the help and all but I need to run. Those freaks have Vanille.”

“I know,” he affirmed. “I already checked the Den of Shadows – she’s not there. But I have a feeling I know where they took her. Follow me.” With inhuman strength he leapt onto a nearby roof, then stood at the top rung of a ladder in wait for her.

“Let’s hope you’re right,” Fang muttered under her breath, and hurried over to ascend to his level.

-

Crouched low atop the cemetery wall they observed the scene before them. The Children of Etro clustered around a large monument to the Goddess, and their leader’s voice rang across the space as he began his address.

“We gather to honor the Goddess of Death, and to end the treachery of one we once held in great esteem.” The hooded man turned to look upon the person in question. Bound to a board in front of the statue was Vanille. Her body sagged, its weight suspended by the restraints around her wrists as she struggled to keep her head upright. She was heavily sedated.

Fang instinctively moved to leap into the graveyard but the other hunter pulled her back, gripping her shoulder firmly. His eyes were locked on the ceremonial blade in the leader’s hand. If they blew their cover at this distance the man could harm Vanille before they could reach her. Meeting Fang’s gaze he motioned toward the opposite end of the wall, signaling for her to follow him. They crept along the path silently, until they’d reached a shadowed area where they could hop down undetected. Between the thick fog that clung to the ground and the cover of large boulders they were able to sneak their way to the back of the statue, listening as the disciple continued his speech.

“We have all seen the prophecy. A woman of rose-colored hair shall bring about the end of the world, and awaken Bhunivelze from his long slumber. Who else could this woman be, if not the one you see before you? For years the Order of Salvation has groomed her for this task, and she will doubtless begin it once they name her their saint. If we are to set the world right again, we must stop the Savior from fulfilling her purpose!”

The disciples cried in agreement, and Fang’s brows furrowed. “What’s he talking about?” she whispered.

“I’m not sure,” Noel answered, looking just as uncomfortable as the other hunter. “A short while ago the Children of Etro managed to get their hands on an oracle drive. Whatever’s in that prophecy must be causing them to act this way.”

Fang’s eyes never left the man closest to Vanille, and her muscles went rigid as he held his weapon over his head.

“The promised time is upon us!” he shouted, and the crowd repeated it back to him. He adjusted his grip on the scythe, prepared to strike as he faced the bound woman. Vanille’s eyes widened, her voice muffled as she tried to speak through the cloth around her mouth. She tugged weakly at her restraints as the man came closer, and frightened tears glimmered on her lashes.

Fang saw red.

The disciple readied his weapon, and his voice boomed through the cemetery. “Betrayer of Etro, return to Chaos Our Mother!”

Before the man could land his blow Fang shot out of the shadows. Her lance thrust into the man’s abdomen, hoisting him into the air as adrenaline thundered through her veins. The disciple spat blood, half impaled, and the hunter tossed him back into the crowd effortlessly. She stood bristling in front of Vanille, her eyes blazing ferociously as they swept over the group of zealots.

 _“Who’s next_ _?”_ she roared.

After a moment of stunned silence the Children shouted angrily and charged. Fang ran to meet them, a cry of rage bellowing from her lungs. Her lance swung in a forceful arc, striking several disciples to the ground before she sped off toward the next advancing group. Vanille watched her rampage in petrified horror, only able to break her eyes away when she felt a tug at her wrist. Noel cut at her bindings, working diligently while taking quick glances over his shoulder to ensure that no one got the better of his turned back. When the final tie was cut she fell, and the younger man scooped her into his arms protectively.

Vanille weakly pulled the cloth down from her mouth, and her other hand clung desperately to Noel’s top. Her eyes met his fearfully and her voice trembled. “Don’t kill them!” she pled. “Tell her not to kill them!”

Noel creased his brow and shifted to face Fang. It was clear from the mass of bodies littering the ground that Vanille’s request was already moot. Even if he wanted to, he doubted he could get through to the woman. She was savage, consumed with fury for what the worshippers had attempted. She didn’t hesitate to end them, and went so far as to chase after the remaining disciples who tried to escape.

“Fang! Stop! Please!” Vanille cried. But the woman was too far away, and too lost to her emotions. When her spear struck into the back of a fleeing disciple Vanille choked on a sob, burying her face into Noel’s shoulder. The man didn’t know what to say. He pressed his hand to the back of her head so she wouldn’t feel tempted to look again.

When the cries of the slain had ceased the cemetery took on an air of eerie silence. Fang stood perfectly still, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. The gravity of what she had done only half sunk in as she turned back to the pair. Noel watched her cautiously, holding Vanille to him as she shook with quiet sobs. Fang didn’t quite like the way he looked at her, as though he thought he needed to protect Vanille from her now as well.

She walked over to them in an almost subdued fashion, her lance falling limply out of her hand when she’d gotten close enough. Crouching to the ground beside them she went to reach for the younger woman, but stopped herself when she saw the red that stained her fingertips.

“Vanille …”

The redhead let out a heartsick cry, almost afraid to look at her partner. But her love and concern for the woman won out, and she turned around and threw her arms around Fang. “You killed them,” she accused miserably against her neck.

“Forgive me,” Fang husked, staring at the ground with vacant eyes. She didn’t want to kill humans. It made her feel like a monster. But to keep Vanille safe she would do it again, a thousandfold if she had to. She’d become Ragnarok twice to stop her love from turning Cie’th. What were a few more souls on her conscience at this point?

As the girl continued to cry Fang held her tightly, careful not to sully her clothes. When Noel was convinced the hunter had quelled her rage he stood, walking a short distance to collect an object that had been discarded in all of the confusion.

“What is that?” Fang asked when he returned, turning the green polygon over in his hands.

“The oracle drive,” he answered, and walked over to its stand beside the monument. “Whatever’s on here should tell us why the Children of Etro went after Vanille.”

Locking the mechanism in place he waved his hand over it, triggering a light to burst forth from the device and reveal the prophecy within. The scene unfurled in quick succession, showing the world’s end, Noel himself, and a rose-haired woman.

“That’s Light,” Fang gaped, and her tone reflected her budding aggravation. “ _That’s_ who the Children of Etro thought Vanille was? Are they blind?”

“They’re a desperate group of people,” Noel said, scanning the projection before him. “They could have seen the color of her hair and assumed it was Vanille given her connection to the Order.”

“They’d better stay away from her if they know what’s good for them,” Fang growled, and half regretted the threat when she felt her love tense up in her arms.

Noel shook his head. “After this I doubt the Order will let them get anywhere near her.”

Fang silently agreed, her lips thinning as she brought her attention back to the oracle drive. “So this is how the world is going to end … Can’t say I understand what’s going on.”

“It looks like Lightning and I square off,” Noel observed, and crossed his arms. “But that doesn’t make sense. Lightning fought in Valhalla to try to save the world. She wouldn’t change her mind and end it out of nowhere, and neither would I.”

“According to the Order, the Savior comes at the end of days to guide our souls to a new world. When that happens, Nova Chrysalia will be destroyed.” Fang studied the prophecy in more detail, piecing the facts together. “If Light _is_ the Savior, she could be the one to end the world. Question is, what’s she done so wrong that you feel the need to fight her?”

The young man hesitated before replying. “We don’t even know if this drive shows the real future or another paradox. But if the prophecy is true … I’m sure there’s a reason. I wouldn’t attack Lightning unless I thought it was the absolute right thing to do.”

Fang nodded, looking back to the woman in her arms. Vanille’s trembling had stopped, and she leaned heavily against the hunter for support. “Let’s get you back home.”

Grabbing her lance she retracted the blades and strapped it onto her belt, then shifted to lace her arms beneath Vanille’s knees and around her back. She felt like a ragdoll against her, limp with fatigue and whatever sedative the worshippers had given her. Fang’s frown deepened, and she subconsciously pulled the girl closer to her chest.

“I’ll cover you until you find the secutors,” the other hunter offered.

Fang nodded in agreement, grateful for the help. “Thanks, Noel. For everything.”

“No problem.”

The young man watched as the older Gran Pulsian turned toward the cemetery entrance. He made to follow but stopped briefly, his attention drawn back to the oracle drive. He watched the scene play out again with hardened and curious eyes, before he pulled them away to catch up with Fang.

Perched on the limb of a mangled tree Lumina swung her legs and watched them leave.

-

It was the middle of the night, but neither found they could sleep. Instead they lay facing one another, their silhouettes illuminated in the soft starlight seeping in from the window. Fang’s hand gently glided over the younger woman’s bangs, pushing them aside to skim her fingertips across the dark bruise on her temple. The fact that it had not healed yet was telling of how weak she was from the ordeal.

“I wish I was there with you,” she grieved softly. “This wouldn’t have happened.”

“You can’t be there to protect me all the time,” Vanille whispered, her eyes darting to the sheets guiltily. “It was my fault, anyway. I was careless.”

“I won’t let it happen again,” Fang assured. “No more daytrips. I’m staying right here with you. If I can’t trust the Order to keep you safe while I’m gone then I have to guard you myself.”

“No, Fang. You can’t do that to yourself.” She shook her head. “I’ll be fine. The Order says they’ll take care of everything. They’re strengthening the guard, and they’ll get whatever I need shipped to the cathedral. I won’t have to leave and put myself in danger anymore.”

Fang stared at her quietly. How could Vanille say something so horrific and make it sound like a positive? The Order was preparing to permanently confine her to the building, as though she were a prisoner. But she seemed perfectly fine with it in a way that twisted the older woman’s stomach.

“So you don’t have to worry about me,” Vanille continued. She took the hand that still lingered on her temple and brought it down, pressing it to her cheek. “Go on your trips. They make you happy.”

“I can’t be happy if I’m worried all the time that you’re not,” Fang argued gently, her deep jade eyes flickering over hers. “Is this really what you want? To stay cooped up in this place?”

Vanille smiled sympathetically. “I don’t have a choice.”

“But you do,” she insisted stubbornly. “ _They_ need _you_. It’s not the other way around. Just because they want things a certain way doesn’t mean you’ve gotta comply all the time and sacrifice yourself.”

The younger woman’s lips parted, her brows creasing slightly as she searched her partner’s gaze. There was something new in Vanille’s eyes, a surprised nervousness and uncertainty. Fang’s own features turned to confusion as a result, and she had a vague suspicion that she was missing something.

“Vanille?”

She shook her head dismissively, and shifted closer until she was pressed against Fang’s warm body. “Let’s face it later,” she murmured, wrapping her arm around the hunter’s middle.

Fang sighed, folding the girl into her arms as she planted a kiss against her hair. Vanille had a rough day. She wanted to leave it there and allow her love some much needed rest, but her mind kept racing through the events of that evening.

“If anything ever happened to you I don’t know what I’d do,” she confessed. “You mean everything to me.”

“It still doesn’t justify what you did in the cemetery,” Vanille told her, going tense in her embrace. “Promise me you won’t ever do that again – you won’t kill anyone else for my sake, even if my life depends on it. My heart can’t take it, Fang.”

Fang closed her eyes and drew in a long breath, before she shook her head. “I can’t make that promise, Vanille. Even if I hate it too, I’ll stop at nothing to keep you safe.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she whispered.

Fang frowned, but said nothing. Curling closer she nuzzled her jaw against Vanille’s pink locks, and held her protectively in her arms for the remainder of the night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Notes & Chapter References:
> 
> So, yeah. I understand the Children of Etro plot-line is more Noel's thing, but I feel that the group must have impacted Fang and Vanille's arc as well. Vanille's attendant Aremiah mentions that Vanille is kept locked in the cathedral for her own safety. This chapter explains the incident that put that policy into effect. I also wanted to include it to build up a little trust between Fang and Lumina. 
> 
> There are two oracle drives in Lightning Returns; a green one and a red one. The green excludes the portion of the prophecy containing Yeul. That is the one in this chapter, and we can assume Noel picks up the red one somewhere in the future.
> 
> Big thanks to my beta plus_minus.


	7. Saint

-

9 9 0 A F

-

The day had arrived before either of them were prepared for it. Fang leant against the wall outside of the sacristy Vanille had been escorted into, drumming her fingers against her arm while she waited in uncomfortable silence with the secutors. She could hear muffled voices from inside the room as the clergy dressed and rehearsed for the ceremony. They reemerged after several minutes adorned in their sacred vestments. Vanille was the last to step out into the hallway, and Fang took a long moment to sweep her eyes over the woman’s form.

Unlike the rest of the clergy she wore no mask, and her wild curls had been reigned into two neat braids that rested on her shoulders. Her ceremonial garb resembled that of the Order’s, but suited her in a way that Fang was reluctant to admit. The outermost robe was silken white with golden embroidery. Below were robes of bright red and orange, and a long checkered skirt could be seen wherever the flowing fabrics parted. When the hunter’s eyes finally trailed up to her face Vanille gave a nervous smile, and Fang pressed off the wall to approach her.

“How do I look?” Vanille asked.

“Like you’re about to vomit, if I’ll be honest,” Fang admitted.

The redhead placed her hands to her cheeks, looking slightly horrified. “Do I really? I’m so nervous, Fang.”

“Don’t be. I’m only teasing.” Fang smiled at her softly, her eyes flickering over her features. “You look beautiful. You always do.”

Vanille’s lips tugged upward at the compliment, and she brought her hands down to clasp Fang’s. The older woman glanced sidelong at the other members of the clergy and stepped closer.

“Are you sure I’m part of this ceremony? Why don’t I get a fancy outfit?” Fang continued, half in jest. Dressed in her usual sari she was beginning to feel like an outlier among them. Which wasn’t at all far from the truth, of course, but she didn’t care to draw attention to that fact quite so dramatically.

“You’re not a part of the sect, so you can’t dress like this. You _are_ in the ceremony, though.” Vanille paused, then stared at the hunter cautiously. “This isn’t your way of telling me you forgot what you’re supposed to do, right?”

“I remember,” Fang assured lightheartedly, and shifted so that she could link her arm with the other woman’s. Vanille had given her instructions on what was required of her for the inauguration. The role she played was silent, and simple. Part of her wondered why it was even necessary, but knowing the Order there must have been a ludicrous explanation involved. It was always something with them.

“Sacred One, we are ready to begin.”

Vanille turned to the man who had spoken and nodded. She steered Fang by the arm toward the center of the disciples as they assembled, three in front of them and three behind. Five secutors took formation around the group. On the lead clergyman’s cue they advanced down the corridor and toward the Hall of Devotion. Vanille placed her other hand on Fang’s arm nervously as they made their way into the large space. She doubted she’d ever seen so many people in the cathedral before. She could feel their eyes bear into her, looking upon her with a reverence that she felt wholly unworthy of.

Fang kept her eyes forward as she walked Vanille down the long center aisle. Her carefree mood had disappeared, replaced instead by an unsettling feeling as she observed the High Priestess awaiting them at the edge of the altar. Something just felt off about the way the woman looked at them. There was a haughtiness to her expression, and Fang couldn’t decide whether it was truly there or imagined.

When they reached her the party bowed, and prompted by Vanille Fang begrudgingly did the same. The six clergymen arranged themselves on every other step on either side of the altar, while the secutors spread out around its base. The two Gran Pulsians stood before the altar alone, and the cathedral was silent as its occupants waited for the service to resume.

“Joyous is this day, for it is the beginning of a new era,” the priestess began in a loud bellow. “Gone are the days of suffering and loss. Almighty God has heard our prayers, and has sent us our salvation. Fear not the Chaos, He has said. Awakened is the bringer of redemption. With love and devotion she atones for the sins of humanity’s past, and frees us from the thorny grip of entropy itself. Sacred One, come forth if you are prepared to accept His divine plan.”

Fang looked to Vanille as she felt her pull away. She took a step to follow but the smaller woman stopped her, smiling mutely as she shook her head. Turning back to the altar Vanille ascended the steps alone. She knelt before the priestess, robes billowing out around her, and crossed her hands over her chest in prayer. The priestess placed her hand at the crown of Vanille’s head as she bowed it.

“Blessed is the gift the Maker has granted you. It is His will that you use such power to serve His people. We bear witness to the promises you now make to Almighty Bhunivelze. Servant of God, do you accept this holy mission?”

“As He wills it,” Vanille recited evenly.

The priestess continued, “Do you swear to carry out the sacred duties entrusted to you by God Almighty?”

“As He wills it,” Vanille repeated.

“Do you swear your allegiance to God alone, and swear to oppose those who would seek to act against His will?”

“As He wills it.”

Fang’s lips formed a stern line as the rites continued, listening as the woman she loved promised fealty to Bhunivelze.

“Do you swear that you will unequivocally surrender all that you are in the name of God Almighty?”

“As He wills it.”

She heard the promises of devotion, of unconditional fidelity, of sacrificing herself entirely to God, and all the while it made her feel sick. She’d known what Vanille’s sainthood would entail. But listing it all off like this, with such gripping finality, was more than Fang was prepared for. The sacred rites sounded like wedding vows.

“Do you swear that your love for God and His people shall surpass all things material in this world?”

“As He wills it.”

This was what Vanille wanted. Fang should have been able to accept that, so why couldn’t she? She didn’t want this. She wanted to be the one Vanille swore loyalty to, and she the same. She wanted to be the center of her life, as Vanille had always been the center of hers. The Order had robbed her of that seat, and all she could do was helplessly stand at the base of the altar and allow it to happen.

 _‘I don’t want to be here,’_ she thought absently. Her mind hummed with nausea and jealously.

“Do you swear to perform the Soulsong strong and true – to put the dead to rest and usher in an age of new beginnings?”

“ ... As He wills it.”

That was the last vow, it seemed. Good. The priestess took her hand from Vanille’s head and spread her arms out to the congregation openly. “Rejoice, for the Sacred One has accepted her mission from God! May she henceforth cast away the sins and impurities of her former life, and emerge from this service a divine saint.”

The High Priestess’s arms lowered, and her gaze shifted to look down at Fang. It was then she remembered that her role in the ceremony was not yet complete. Vanille had requested one last thing of her. At the time it had seemed innocent enough, but after witnessing the priestess’s speech it seemed anything but to the hunter. Fang was no fool. She did not miss the symbolism in the task asked of her, and she knew such a loathsome idea could only come from the woman who stared down at her expectantly from the altar.

Fang went rigid as she felt the rest of the congregation’s eyes on her. She let the seconds tick on, until the pause had at last drawn Vanille’s attention to her. Twisting slightly to face her the redhead smiled benevolently, giving her an encouraging nod that was far too naive. Fang obeyed the command. Only for her, however much it pained her.

Forcing her limbs to move she walked up the steps and passed Vanille and the High Priestess. An intricate headpiece was fanned out on the table at the center of the altar. She took it into her hands, her eyes locked on the elegant pattern as she turned toward the pair.

 _‘I don’t want to do this.'_ Every step felt like a stab at her insides, accentuating an ever present and growing sense of defeat. _‘Don’t make me do this.’_

Fang slowed to a halt beside the priestess and hesitated. She tried not to let the venom in her eyes shine through. Tried not to let the pain she felt in her heart etch itself across her face. Tried not to think about sucker punching the woman for the satisfaction that flickered across her expression, as though she thought she’d finally broken Fang into submission. Stay. Fetch. Heel.

She handed the veil to the priestess. Her emotions were too raw to attempt anything otherwise. She couldn’t even spare a glance toward Vanille, and turned away to descend the steps. When she reached the base her legs kept going, walking down the center aisle as calmly as she could manage. The congregation paid her little mind, engrossed as they watched the priestess adorn Vanille in the sacred item.

She reached the exit at the very moment the High Priestess cried out for praise of their Saint.

-

From her vantage point Fang watched the sky slowly turn from dusk to night, and the lights of the city flicker on one by one. The bells of the clock tower had gone off several minutes prior, signaling the passage of nearly two hours at her current post. It was the highest portion of the cathedral she could get to with ease, situated a story above the clock-faced façade at the front of the building. She sat at the ledge of an open window, leaning on the frame with her left leg dangling outside.

“Fang?”

The voice echoed up the stairwell, its bearer out of sight. Before she could decide whether or not to indulge the call she could already hear footsteps approaching. Vanille emerged a moment later, glancing around the small storage space. “I didn’t even know this place existed,” she mused out loud, and furrowed her brows when she noticed her partner’s precarious seat. “How often do you come up here? It’s dangerous.”

Fang shrugged indifferently. Danger was never an issue for her. “How did you know I’d be here?”

“Lumina told me.” Vanille hesitated, the child’s exact words echoing back into her mind.

_‘You should try the top spire. She always goes up there to sulk.’_

Since when did Fang sulk?

“Is everything alright? You disappeared halfway through the ceremony. I was worried about you.”

“Everything’s fine,” she dismissed, her eyes never leaving the horizon. She nodded slightly toward the stairs Vanille had come from. “You should go back. I’m sure they’ll want their Saint to enjoy the festivities.”

There was a small gathering of sorts in the courtyard of the cathedral, where followers of the Order had congregated to dine and celebrate the successful induction.

“I want you to come with me,” Vanille said softly. She held a suspicion that Fang was avoiding her gaze. It was furthered when she took a step closer, and the hunter shifted in response. She readjusted to sit with both of her legs outside of the window now, facing away from the younger woman completely. Her body nearly acting on its own accord, Vanille crossed the distance between them and folded her arms around her shoulders from behind.

“What’s the matter?” She tried again patiently.

Fang exhaled with an edge and shook her head. “I’m not myself tonight. Sorry, Vanille.”

“Fang …”

The older woman’s head sunk further. “Just go.” Her voice was low. Vanille had known that tone before. Cupping the side of Fang’s face she turned it toward her to read her expression. It was stoic. Only her glossy eyes betrayed her emotions, though they were evident enough in the way her gaze refused to meet hers.

“Look at me,” she coaxed gently.

After a brief internal struggle Fang relented. Her murky jade eyes darted toward her partner’s, before they were distracted by the intricate trappings of the veil that framed her face. Her brows creased, and Vanille ran her thumb along the woman’s jaw to regain her attention.

“Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s stupid,” Fang muttered. But the redhead pressed her with a look, and she took in a shaky breath. “It’s just … What _was_ that, Vanille?” Her eyes reflected the confusion and betrayal within her. “Why do I feel like I just handed you off, and willingly at that?”

“I’m right here, Fang,” she assured. “No one’s taken me away from you.”

“What makes you so sure?” the hunter argued. “You’ve done away with so much to be Saint already. Who’s to say I’m not next?” Vanille winced at the accusation, and Fang turned to look back out at the city. She shrunk in the younger woman’s arms. “I just feel like I’m losing you. And there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.”

Fang wanted to find solace in Vanille’s words, but she couldn’t bring herself to believe them. It wasn’t all in her head; her instincts screamed that her suspicions were justified. She was going to lose Vanille to this completely. Somehow. Someday. It was only a matter of time.

Vanille unhooked her arms from around the other woman and stepped back. “Come down from the ledge.” Though soft her voice was firm. Fang obeyed her resignedly, sweeping her legs over the side of the windowsill and onto the ground beside her. When she stood Vanille took her hands and pulled her closer, lifting on her toes to press their lips together. The contact was delicate, reassuring, and they parted only so that Vanille could emphasize her words with the conviction in her gaze.

“No one can ever stop me from loving you,” she told her. “Not the Order. Not God Himself. I’ll love you until my very end, Fang. You know that.”

Fang stared down at her quietly, searching her eyes. She held little doubt that Vanille loved her. Whether she would leave her was another matter, one she was well aware the girl had avoided in her response. How long would it be before her sense of duty outweighed her affections? How much time did they have before Vanille surrendered herself entirely to her post?

Bringing her hand beneath Vanille’s veil Fang cupped the nape of her neck, leaning forward to capture her lips again. The smaller girl reciprocated lovingly, running her hands along the hunter’s sides in comfort. More through suggestion than force she guided Fang backwards, until her back pressed against the wall beside the open window. Vanille molded her form against Fang’s, deepening their kiss briefly before she broke away to pepper soft kisses along the underside of the woman’s jaw.

Fang turned her head to the side as her partner’s lips moved down the length of her neck, sending a rush of anticipation through her body. But a sharp poke at her chin pulled her from the sensation, and she craned her neck awkwardly to avoid the points of Vanille’s headpiece. It was in the way. Not to mention it was somewhat of a turnoff. Who designed that damn thing anyway?

Deciding Vanille wouldn’t be too happy about her grabbing the veil and chucking it into some dusty corner Fang sighed, admitting defeat. “You’re going to poke my eye out with that hat of yours.”

“Oops.” Vanille retreated, looking sheepish. “Guess we’ll have to get used to that.”

“Guess we will.” Fang gave a halfhearted smile in response. “You really should be heading back. If they think you’ve been abducted again they’ll overturn the entire city.”

“If you insist,” Vanille conceded. Her eyes flickered over the older woman’s features. “I’m not done with you though. Meet me back at the room in an hour?”

Fang’s brow arched slightly. “On your inauguration day? Won’t _Bhunivelze Almighty_ be jealous?” In spite of the playful taunt her tone held an underlying bitterness. They’d both heard it.

Vanille cupped the sides of Fang’s face and leaned closer. “Let Him be jealous,” she answered, and closed in to capture her lips again. The hunter felt goosebumps rise over her skin, delighting in the response more than she cared to admit. Vanille could pledge her loyalty to the god, but her heart – that belonged to Fang. He couldn’t take that from her.

Parting, Vanille offered a comforting smile as her hands moved down to squeeze Fang’s one last time. “I won’t be long. Love you.”

Fang smirked. “Love you too. Now off with you.”

Vanille turned to leave, descending the stairs to reconvene with the clerics outside of the cathedral. Fang watched her go, and when she could no longer hear her light footfalls she resumed her position beside the window. Placing her palms against its frame she leaned her weight against it, her head sinking as she released another sigh. She tried not to think about how alone she felt.

-

The years crawled by, and all the while Fang reminded herself of the words Vanille had told her. She loved her. No one had taken Vanille away from her. But in a way they had. They were together, but not. Like two people divided by a clear pane of glass. She couldn’t reach her, not the way she was able to in the past. Vanille had changed, and Fang had stayed the same.

As the chaos spread the days grew darker, and so too did the hearts of many in Nova Chrysalia. Vanille felt it all. Fang watched as the weight of it pulled the bounce from her step, and wore thin the perpetual smile that always graced her features. It disappeared completely, eventually, replaced instead with furrowed brows and eyes that held a questioning sorrow. She only seemed at peace when she was sleeping. Even then she would wake from her nightmares, or from the howl of the chaos, and tremble in Fang’s arms.

Fang told herself that she was there for Vanille. She’d be there to protect her. But she couldn’t protect her from this. The Vanille she’d known all her life was slipping away right before her. A longing had invaded her gaze. Not for Fang, but for something else entirely. She recognized it from her rounds through devastated villages on Gran Pulse, on the gaunt faces of those ravaged by the war. It was a plea for release from their suffering. A plea for death.

Maybe Vanille was right. Maybe they were being punished for the sins of their past. Fang could think of no greater pain than to witness her love suffer through this. She felt useless. She’d tried to persuade her to leave, to come with her and find a quiet place to live somewhere far from the chaos. But Vanille refused to abandon Luxerion. She stayed the Order’s committed servant in spite of how it pained her, walled up in the cathedral like a caged bird.

But Fang could not be shackled like her partner, and the divide between her needs and devotion to Vanille tore at her. Her hunts in the Wildlands turned from daytrips to weeklong events. Her fights in the Coliseum became less of a sport and more of a desperate need to release pent up anger and frustration. There was nowhere for her to turn to for comfort. Snow was jaded. Sazh was despondent. And Vanille … Vanille was lost to her. She loved her, yes. But Vanille was no longer capable of being happy. Fang couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her give a genuine smile. She couldn’t stand it. How much more could she take before it broke her?

Fang was petrified. She felt like a ticking bomb. She would snap eventually. She knew she would. She could only pray that when the time came to self-destruct she would not take Vanille along with her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Notes & Chapter References:
> 
> There's a five year gap between this chapter and the next. Thirteen years is just too long in my opinion. I would've done more for this time but frankly Vanille slowly crumpling into depression is too damn sad. I hope the final section of this chapter addresses the general theme of those years.
> 
> I tried to show a vulnerable side of Fang here. If that came off as a bit ooc I apologize. It's tricky with her sometimes. 
> 
> Big thanks to my beta plus_minus.


	8. Soulsong

-

9 9 5 A F

-

Fang lounged in the seat of the bay window, surrounded by the obscene number of decorative pillows and plush dolls Vanille had accumulated over the years. Her attention was fixed on the book in her hands, a rather risqué Cocoonian romance novel. She imagined the Order thought she would read more wholesome material after they labored to teach her their written language. As always they thought wrong.

She could hear the clock tower’s bells begin their toll, and Fang’s ears perked as she counted along. When they stopped after four chimes she sighed, shutting her book. There was still another hour before Vanille’s supper break, and the dark haired woman was feeling restless.

Sunlight shimmered off the crystal pendant around her neck, and her fingers absently came to toy with it as she thought of how to occupy her time. Even though she’d preferred Vanille to keep it, the girl had insisted they take turns wearing the necklace. She relented, but part of Fang still worried that she might accidentally break the delicate piece someday.

Dropping the pendant back onto her chest she arched into a stretch, then swung her legs off the seat. She pulled on her boots and grabbed her spear before making her way out of their bedroom. A walk around the city would make the hour pass more quickly, and hopefully burn off some of her pent up energy.

In a listless pace Fang meandered down the hallways, which were typically empty at that time of day. The clergy would be in the cathedral conducting penance with the Saint, and the staff would be preparing the dining hall. As such it came as a surprise to the hunter when she heard emphatic voices further into the corridor. Her curiosity was piqued when she identified one of the speakers as the High Priestess, whose tone implied she was addressing a subordinate.

Fang slowed as she approached the corner, opting to listen in on their conversation. It must have been important if the head of the Order shirked her afternoon obligations.

“You’re certain you’ve found it this time?” she heard the woman ask.

“Without question,” came the tinny voice of a secutor. “The influx of ancient Pulsian artifacts can be traced to the western desert. A great storm shifted the dunes and exhumed ruins buried beneath the sand. They match the description provided within the sacred text.”

“After so long,” the priestess breathed. “We shall have the holy clavis at last.”

“If He wills it, Your Holiness,” the man added cautiously. “Bandits have kept the ruins a well-guarded secret up until this point. Based on the size of their town I’d say they’ve been out there for a couple of months now. We’ll be competing with them to find the clavis – if they haven’t already found it, that is.”

“If they have we must recover it at all costs. Without it the Saint cannot perform her Soulsong. You will be failing God Himself if you do not retrieve that instrument.”

“Understood. We’ll send a party to comb the ruins immediately.”

Fang listened as the two walked further down the hall and away from her. Her brows drew a hard line. “Soulsong,” she murmured out loud. It sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. “What Soulsong?”

“You don’t know?”

She flinched at the sudden voice, then relaxed and glared halfheartedly at the pink haired child who snuck up behind her. Lumina spun in a circle and came to a stop in front of her, wearing her typical Cheshire grin.

“I guess you wouldn’t know, would you?” the girl teased. “Why else would you still be here?”

“You know what it is?” Fang asked, crossing her arms. “What about that clavis thing?”

Lumina gave an eager nod. In demonstration she opened her palm and allowed a small ball of chaos to form within it. “The clavis is a holy instrument used to lure in the souls of the dead. Once they’re all in one location, a saint can perform the Soulsong and _poof_ _!”_ She closed her hand, snuffing out the energy. “No more chaos.”

“Right. I remember now. They mentioned it at Vanille’s inauguration ceremony. Said it would bring peace to the dead, which doesn’t sound so bad if you ask me.”

“I guess not.” Lumina shrugged, turning her back on the woman as she sauntered down the hallway. “It’s a shame about Vanille, though.”

Fang frowned, suspicious of her tone. “What about her?”

“The thing is, in order for the Soulsong to actually _work_ , the Saint has to be sacrificed.” Lumina explained, and brought her hands up to mimic a balance. “One life for the good of many. It’s a fair trade, don’t you think?”

Fang’s jaw tightened, her eyes narrowing on the child. “If this is some kind of joke you’ve got a real nasty punch-line, kiddo.”

“I’m telling the truth,” Lumina insisted, and spun to face the woman. “Did you _actually_ think the Order kept you two around for the sake of plain generosity? This was their plan from the moment you woke up. But hey – _don’t_ believe me. When the time comes just don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”

Fang stared speechlessly at the girl. She had her disagreements with the Order and its methods, but this was too much. She felt like an utter fool for not seeing it sooner – for not trusting her gut instinct toward the organization at the start. She’d blindly let them take Vanille in, teach her, train her, sanctify her, and for what? So that she could be their sacred lamb at the end of days? Was that all she was good for in their eyes?

There was no way she was going to let that happen.

Fang stormed around the corner and down the hallway, her fists clenched tightly at her sides in a white knuckled grip. When she reached the doors to the Hall of Devotion she pushed them open forcefully, startling those inside as the noise reverberated loudly off the walls. The secutors shared a look as she briskly made her way down the center aisle, and one quietly slipped away to gather reinforcements.

“Fang?” Vanille excused herself from a conversation and walked to meet her in the mostly empty nave. Her brows creased in concern when she took in the older woman’s expression. “Is everything alright?”

Fang was barely at a stop before she took Vanille’s hand in her own and tugged her in the direction she’d come from. “We’re going.”

“Going where?” The redhead asked uneasily. She flinched when she was pulled again, her fingers crushed in her partner’s viselike grip. “Fang, you’re hurting me. Can’t you stop for a minute and tell me what’s going on?”

Fang let go of her hand apologetically and turned to face her. “There’s no time for that,” she told her in a gentle but impatient voice. “Please, Vanille – just trust me. We have to go.”

Vanille recognized the wild panic in her eyes. Fang was going to do something rash if she didn’t calm her down. Stepping closer she put her hand on the woman’s arm, stroking it reassuringly. “Everything’s okay,” she soothed.

The clink of armor steadily encroached upon them from the center aisle, and Fang whipped around to face the secutors. She wrenched her bladed lance from its holster and thrust it out toward the group.

“Stay _back!”_ she roared.

“What are you _doing?”_ Vanille shrieked from behind her. “Don’t hurt anyone!”

“Then you’d better tell them to get out of my way,” Fang grated venomously. “These bastards have been lying to us from the start, Vanille. I’m getting you out of here – right now. They can’t have their Soulsong if you’re not here to perform it.”

“That’s exactly why I have to stay!” Vanille protested.

“You’re not staying!” Fang shouted angrily. “If you go through with that ritual you’ll die!”

“I know.”

The words rang heavy in the hunter’s ears. Doubting that she heard them correctly Fang lowered her weapon and turned to the woman who uttered them. Vanille stared back at her, her bright eyes sad but determined. “They never lied about the Soulsong,” she confessed, voice laden with trepidation. “Please don’t fight them. I know already what will happen to me, but I need to do this. I _want_ to.”

Fang was stunned. She knew. She _knew._ How long had she kept it from her? Had she honestly planned to avoid that fact until the very end – when she would take her life and leave her, without so much as an explanation?  

Her shock dissolved into anger. Crouching she barreled into Vanille’s middle and folded the surprised girl up onto her shoulder. Her arm locked around her frame as she straightened and rounded to face the guards, spear at the ready in her other hand. She scowled over her shoulder at the struggling younger woman. “If you think I’m gonna stand by and let you kill yourself you’re a damned fool, Vanille.”

“Fang, stop!” Vanille pleaded, pushing at her shoulder.

Ignoring her Fang surged forward into the troop of secutors, the first few parting nervously as she shot them a dangerous look. They couldn’t risk opening fire with their Saint in such close proximity. Nor did they think she would cooperate with them afterward if they struck the other woman down.

One brave secutor hurried to block her path in the aisle, aiming his gunblade for her legs. Before he could issue a command or pull the trigger she swiped her weapon at him, sending him crashing into the path railing. It drove the other soldiers to close in. Clashing metal echoed through the space as Fang fought her way toward the exit. Vanille continued to resist, frightened by the number of injured men the hunter left in her wake.

“Stop. Please!” She begged again, and went unheeded a second time. Her head fell, distraught when she realized that Fang would not listen. She would strike down every last soldier that stood in her way if Vanille did not intervene.

Biting her lip Vanille flattened her palm against Fang’s back and began to channel a spell. The energy crept down the woman’s spine and into her limbs, slowing their movements until they locked entirely. If Fang was shocked or angry she could not express it. She was paralyzed, frozen in place like a living statue. With difficulty Vanille climbed down from her shoulder. Hovering close she cupped her face in her hands, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“I’m so sorry, Fang,” she whispered. The hunter could only manage a strangled noise in response, and Vanille bowed her head and drew back a few paces. The guards advanced at her retreat and she panicked, returning immediately to shield her partner with her arms. “Don’t hurt her!”

Impatient heels clicked against the tile floor as the High Priestess approached them, having witnessed the event from the other end of the cathedral. “Sacred One, after such an egregious attack on the Order we cannot allow this transgression to go unpunished! Yun Fang must leave Luxerion at once! For the safety of its people, and yours as well!”

“You can’t,” Vanille objected in dismay.

“Would you rather she be jailed?” the priestess threatened. “We have rules and she has broken them. Exile is a kindness for all she has done for the Order of Salvation, but by no means can she remain in this holy city!”

Vanille practically sagged against Fang’s body, crushed by the gravity of the situation. The end of the world was not projected for another five years. How could she handle being apart from her? What if something happened to her, alone and outside the safe gates of the city?

_‘Why, Fang? Why did you do this?’_

She knew she could not refuse the Order. They would never leave her alone after this incident, would never allow her to sneak out to find her partner, or allow Fang anywhere near the cathedral. She knew this was goodbye, and she doubted Fang would ever be able to forgive her for such treason.

Hugging the woman’s shoulders tightly Vanille buried her face into the crook of her neck, fighting half successfully to choke back her tears.

“I love you so much,” she whispered, her voice trembling with heartache. She placed a kiss on her neck, then another on her cheek, before pulling away to meet her eyes again. She wanted to say goodbye, but the words were caught in her throat. She couldn’t.

Instead she dislodged herself from Fang completely and stood close by as the secutors seized the frozen hunter, pulling her toward the service entrance as not to cause a scene. Vanille glanced around fretfully until her eyes fell upon Lumina, who regarded her with a faint smile.

“Make sure she gets out of the city safely,” she begged. “Will you do that for me?”

She knew her spell would wear off in a matter of minutes. She just feared what might happen to Fang in that time, defenseless amongst the soldiers she so recently attacked.

Lumina nodded quietly, and followed after the guards.

-

Fang stared blankly at the floor of the platform, hunched over on a bench in the north station. The spell had already begun to wear off but she still felt immobilized, more so by her regret than magic. She’d messed up. She let her anger get the better of her and acted too impulsively. For that she’d ruined her opportunity to get Vanille away from the Order, and obliterated her chances of ever getting close enough to try again.

“Lumina,” she said monotonously.

The girl quirked her brow at the formality. Not _kiddo_ , not _brat_ or _short stuff_. Just _Lumina_ , devoid of her typical sardonic tone. It sunk home in the child just how dejected Fang felt at that moment. As a courtesy she spared her the playful taunts and took the spring out of her step as she approached her. “Yeah, Fang?”

Without looking up the hunter unclasped the pendant from around her neck. Taking Lumina’s hand she placed the necklace in her palm, folding the girl’s fingers into a protective fist around it. Her jade eyes then locked with hers. “You make sure Vanille gets this. Please.”

“Of course.” Lumina smiled. Fang wavered at how mischievous she looked, but she knew the girl cared for Vanille. Even if she chose to make a game of it at first, the stone would inevitably make its way back to the Saint.

“Thanks. You’ll keep an eye on her for me, yeah?”

The child nodded, and Fang gave an empty smile. Feeling the last of the paralysis leave her legs she stood, her expression morphing into a glower toward the secutors that surrounded her. They held their weapons halfcocked, as if waiting for her to lash out at them again. Now was not the time for that, she knew. She needed a better plan – and less eyes on her.

When she walked over to the clerk he gave her a sympathetic but friendly smile. “Are you taking the train to Yusnaan?”

Fang nodded quietly, already running through her best course of action while purchasing her ticket. Her goal remained the same. She would stop Vanille from performing the Soulsong by any means necessary. If she was fortunate enough, maybe the Patron would be able to help.

The train pulled in after a short while and Fang boarded, annoyed and suspicious when the secutors followed her into the car. She grabbed the overhead rail and stood with her spear at her side. She didn’t trust them, now that they were out of sight of the Saint and away from Luxerion. But she imagined they felt the same about her, and they fell into a tense stalemate for the remainder of the journey.

-

Vanille sat at the window in their room – _her_ room, now – and stared vacantly out at the dreary sunset. She felt almost hollow, as though she had lost half of everything that she was. So many things in the room reminded her of Fang, making her think that the woman was still there. But she wasn’t. She would never be back to continue the novel she’d left on the cushion beside her, or shimmy into the nightclothes she’d folded on her side of the bed. She was gone.

A knock on the door startled her and she stood, telling whomever it was to come in. Her heart leapt with false hope as the door creaked open, but she deflated when she saw that it was only Lumina. As the girl closed the door behind her Vanille took her seat again and bowed her head, feeling foolish for even entertaining the thought that it might be Fang.

“Is she alright?” she asked weakly.

“Made it all the way to the Grand Palace, safe and sound,” Lumina assured, flopping onto the mass of pillows beside her. She peeked at the woman’s face, finding her eyes glossy and her cheeks slightly flushed. She’d been crying. Sitting up Lumina adjusted her position until she was right next to Vanille, and bumped her shoulder into her arm playfully. “Are _you_ alright?”

Vanille tried to smile, to wear a mask, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She wasn’t alright. She was so very far from alright.

“I knew she would do something like this if she found out,” Vanille said, guilt invading her tone. “That’s why I kept it from her. I guess that was a pretty selfish thing for me to do, just so I could be near her for a while longer.” She shook her head, wiping at her eyes. “But somehow she found out anyway, and she’s gone. I deserve this.”

Lumina turned away from her and stared ahead uncomfortably, swinging her legs. She was the one that told Fang. She thought she ought to know, but hadn’t imagined the hunter would get herself banished from Luxerion so soon afterward. Now the two were forcibly separated from one another, and strangely enough part of the girl didn’t like that at all.

“Don’t beat yourself up over it. It’s not your fault that Fang is a hothead,” Lumina argued. Taking the woman’s hand she turned it upright, then dropped an object into it – hidden from view by her gloved hand. She let go with a vague smile. “You’ll probably see each other again.”

Vanille looked down at her palm, finding in it the stone she and Fang had woken up with eight years ago. The stone Fang had made into a beautiful necklace, and shared with her to represent their bond. Tears blurred her vision, and she couldn’t hold back her emotions. Turning she threw her arms around Lumina, clutching her tightly and crying pitifully into her small shoulder.

The child tensed in surprise at the contact, then relaxed and stared off guiltily. Bringing her arms up she embraced Vanille, petting the back of her head as she rocked back and forth slightly. “It’s okay,” she offered softly.

Vanille shook her head, inconsolable. There was so much pain in this world. She tried to guard herself against it, but it took more and more from her with every passing day. Her time. Her freedom. Her future. Her happiness. And now Fang. There was nothing left of her that she could give. Except of course her life.

She needed an end to it. The Soulsong could not come soon enough.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Notes & Chapter References:
> 
> "I tried reason, guilt, even brute force ... I begged and pleaded with her once I found out the truth about the Soulsong. In the end, I completely lost it." - Fang (Lightning Returns)
> 
> Fang getting exiled from Luxerion is a bit of a stretch from the canon, but it makes more sense to me than her just up and leaving without a fight. Plus in LR Fang and Vanille contradict one another in terms of Fang's departure. Vanille says Fang left of her own accord, but from what Fang has to say about it, it sounds more forced. She's the more likely of the two to speak truthfully on the matter as well. Banishment seems like a likely possibility when you consider:  
> I) She hadn't visited Vanille once in all that time.  
> II) She can't take the train from the Dead Dunes to Luxerion (probably for gameplay purposes but still)  
> III) When Lightning brings up Fang in the cathedral, the secutors guarding Vanille are immediately suspicious of her.  
> IV) Fang is by no means good under pressure where Vanille is concerned. 'Brute force' may have been her exact response when she found out the Soulsong would kill her. She confesses as much in main quest 04 in LR 
> 
> Take your pick of whatever spell Vanille uses to paralyze Fang. Stopga works a bit differently in FFXIII, but it would be most akin to that.
> 
> Big thanks to my beta plus_minus.


	9. Dead Dunes

-

9 9 5 A F

-

The sun painted the sky in vibrant shades of peach and gold as it ascended into the sky. Fang watched it for what seemed like hours to her tired mind, perched against the balcony rail of the palace veranda. After a while the doors behind her slowly parted, and she turned to look over her shoulder.

“Hey,” Snow greeted, pushing the doors closed with his foot. He held a mug in either hand, and offered her one when he drew close enough. She took it hesitantly, noting that the beverage inside was warm and tannish in color.

“What is this?” she asked.

“Coffee.” He took a leisured sip from his own mug while leaning against the stone railing. Fang followed his example, then promptly spat the liquid back into the cup – the picture of elegance.

“You trying to poison me?” She grimaced, wiping at her lips.

“Sorry. It’s not for everyone,” Snow laughed, though his expression was apologetic. “You looked like you could use the pick-me-up. Did you sleep at all last night?”

“What do you think?” Fang sighed, setting the mug down so she could rub at her face. “I couldn’t stop thinking about that damn Soulsong. But I might’ve come up with a plan, at the very least.”

“Yeah? Like what?” The Patron shifted slightly, looking over the ledge to check if there were lingering secutors nearby. He wouldn’t put it past the Order to spy on the palace while he harbored the Gran Pulsian.

“The High Priestess said the Soulsong won’t work without some sort of holy clavis to use in the ceremony. And their intelligence is fairly certain it’s located in the desert ruins,” Fang explained. “If I can get to the clavis before they do and destroy it, they can’t go through with the Soulsong.”

“Desert ruins, huh? You mean the Dead Dunes?” Snow combed his hand over the back of his head awkwardly. “It’s pretty dangerous out there, Fang. You could run into a lot of trouble searching for that clavis – and there’s no guarantee it’s even there.”

She gave him a look of exasperation. “What else am I supposed to do? Sit around and wait for Vanille to kill herself?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Snow continued reluctantly. “Believe me I know what you must be going through, but try to think of this from Vanille’s perspective. She’s capable of making her own choices. If she wants to perform the ceremony, then do you really think that it’s right to stop her?”

“Of course I do!” she shot back. “They’ve been brainwashing her with this nonsense for the past eight years! She can’t possibly want that.”  

“Hey, take it easy,” he soothed, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I won’t stop you from looking for the clavis. But you should think it over before you destroy it. Vanille might live but it doesn’t mean she’ll forgive you.”

“She doesn’t have to,” Fang growled lowly. “She’ll be alive. That’s all that matters.”

Snow watched her stare out into the sunrise with a knowing look. He couldn’t fault her for the way she felt. He would have done the same for Serah. Had he known her lapses through time were eating her away, he probably would have stopped her. She’d given her life for the greater good and what good did it do? The world was a mess. Who was to say it wouldn’t still be a mess if Vanille followed in Serah’s footsteps?

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked.

“You can start by telling me how to get to the Dead Dunes.” Fang turned to look at him with a faint but grateful smirk across her lips.

“We have a trade route just west of Yusnaan. We’ve been using it to ship materials there for the new railway extension. You should be able to hop aboard the next shipment,” he explained.

“Great. Any ideas on how to keep the Order off my back once I’m there?”

“If they’re sending units to search the ruins there’s no way they won’t figure out what you’re up to,” Snow mused out loud. “It could get ugly if they think you’re working against them. So, why don’t we trick them?”

Fang quirked her brow. “How?”

“I could meet with the Order and convince them that I talked you out of your opposition. I’ll tell them you’ve gone to collect the clavis in order to redeem yourself. That way the secutors won’t be opening fire on you every time you cross paths.”

“It sounds like a long shot,” she protested skeptically. “But if you think it’ll work, it’s worth a try.”

“Leave it to me,” he assured. “I’ve been honest in my dealings with the Order. They’ll have no reason to suspect I’m lying.”

“I don’t think it’s _you_ they’re worried about,” Fang muttered, and shook her head. “The sooner I can get to that clavis the better. When can I leave?”

“You’re not going anywhere until that shipment is ready,” he answered, a vague strictness invading his tone. “It won’t be for another few days. In the meantime you need to _eat_ and _rest_ , Fang. You look terrible.”

“How kind of you to notice,” she sang tiredly, batting her lashes.

“I’m just looking out for you. You’re gonna wanna start this journey off right, after all.” Snow took another sip of his coffee, patting her shoulder one last time as he pushed off the railing to leave. Waving casually he added, “Oh, and before you even try it, you’re barred from competing in the arena for the next twenty four hours. I’ll lift the ban after you get some sleep.”

“Party pooper,” she pouted. Turning back to the balcony ledge she leaned her arms against it, and her tone took on an air of sincerity when he opened the doors. “Snow – Thanks. For helping me out with all this.”

“Anytime,” he told her, standing in the threshold. “Vanille said it herself, right? We’re family. I wouldn’t let you go through this alone.”

Bowing her head slightly Fang nodded, listening for the click of the doors as Snow exited the veranda. She turned her jade eyes back up to the very pink sky, breathing deeply. “You might end up hating me for it, but I’m destroying that clavis,” she murmured to the open air. “I made a promise to keep you safe. Even if that means from yourself, Vanille. I won’t back down from it now.”

She challenged the sun for a while longer, before fatigue settled heavy in her bones. Dragging herself into the palace Fang found her room and dropped unceremoniously on top of the mattress, falling into an immediate and almost catatonic sleep.

-

The din of chatter filled the space, competing with the band of musicians that played in the corner of the room. Treasure hunters and tourists alike crowded in tables lining the walls, and the bartender shuffled about to keep up with the stream of orders that piled in from the parched visitors. Fang sat across from him at the bar, hunched over her drink with her temple cushioned in her palm. It was evident from her body language that she was not sharing in the jovial mood that permeated the lounge.

Maybe under different circumstances she would have appreciated the Dead Dunes for the oddity that it was. When word leaked of the hidden ruins it attracted a surge of newcomers looking to fill their pockets and quench their thirst for adventure. New discoveries were rare and welcomed, especially when the world was getting smaller and smaller with every passing year. The people were eager to find what they could before the chaos had a chance to consume the dunes, as it had done to so much of Nova Chrysalia already.

After her first two weeks most of the visitors had already dispersed – finding the monsters too dangerous, the tombs too complicated, and the locals less than hospitable. Fang didn’t mind the challenges, however frustrating they could be at times. She’d learned the lay of the ruins over the course of her stay and, for the most part, knew how to keep herself from getting trapped within them. Had it been as simple as that she imagined she would’ve already had the clavis in her possession. But she had not expected the ruins to be controlled by magic.

No matter how she’d tried to open them, or what time of day or night she visited them, there were parts of the ruins that remained sealed shut. There was nothing an ordinary human could do to get them to budge, and Fang bitterly found herself yearning for the powers of a l’Cie again. With them, maybe she would be strong enough to break through that powerful magic.

Fang resigned herself to the fact that she would be in the desert a lot longer than she anticipated. If she herself couldn’t access those ruins, she’d have to wait around for someone who could. If the clavis was in one of those sealed off passages she would need to be close by and ready to strike when the time came. And if no one with such abilities showed up, that was just as well. She’d guard the ruins to the end of days if it meant keeping Vanille alive.

Having had his fill the man sitting beside her stood and stumbled his way toward the stairwell. Another man, much younger in appearance, quickly occupied the vacant stool. He wore a bodysuit of red leather armor, and tied his bleach blonde hair in a stubby ponytail above his headband. She felt his eyes on her and didn’t bother to look up from the counter.

“What’ll it be?” the barkeep asked.

“A shot of Cactuar Tequila for me. And a refill for the lovely lady,” the man replied, tossing a few gil on the bar. When the drinks were poured he lifted his glass, clinking it against Fang’s in a toast despite her obvious disinterest. He then threw the shot back and exhaled loudly. “ _Whew_. That stuff hits ya like a thousand needles ... Hi. Name’s Adonis.”

“Good for you,” Fang offered indifferently.

He gave a dry chuckle, resting his arms on the counter. “You’ve been out here a while now, haven’t you?” he began, his tone light and casual. “Unlike the rest of these tourists you seem to know what you’re doing.”

She didn’t answer, which prompted him to continue.

“You’re a little _too_ good at it, I should say. It’s making my team antsy. You see, we were the ones who discovered these ruins. And you know how the saying goes – finders keepers. This is our turf, and we don’t take kindly to strangers coming in and poking around our stuff.”

“Yeah?” Fang humored, pegging him with a slanted glare.

Adonis nodded, rolling his shoulders calmly. “This is a pretty lawless area. If someone does something someone else doesn’t like – they’re liable to get themselves hurt, or even turn up missing.” Despite the threat he delivered it with a smile, his friendly demeanor never wavering. “We’re reasonable folk. We know not to start trouble without fair warning. That being said, we _kindly_ ask that you leave the dunes. You know. Before things get messy.”

“ _Kindly_ fuck off,” she told him.

The blonde shook his head, scratching awkwardly at his chin while giving a helpless shrug. “You sure that’s how you want to leave it, lady? Could get mighty dangerous for you around here.”

Fang finally straightened her posture and swung in her seat to face him. Though her expression was cool and collected her eyes flashed with a challenge. “Don’t think I haven’t seen your shabby band following me around the ruins – like wild dogs hoping for a few scraps,” she accused. “Amateurs, the whole lot of you. I’m not getting in your way, and even if I was I don’t seem to be shaking in my boots now, do I? I’m staying right here. Got a problem with it and we can settle this the old fashioned way.”

“If that’s how you want it,” Adonis relented. “We’ll take it outside. You and me, no weapons. Loser leaves the dunes for good.”

“Deal,” Fang agreed, pushing out of her seat. She cracked her neck and knuckles as she advanced toward the exit, noting how several onlookers stood from their tables and followed the pair outdoors. By the time they faced one another outside of the Ruffian inn a small crowd of shady characters formed a circle around them.

“You ready or what?” Fang asked, thrusting the head of her spear into the sand and stepping away from it. She would be close enough to reach it if the band of bandits decided to turn this into an unfair fight.

“Ready when you are,” Adonis responded, bringing his fists up. “Don’t think I’ll hold back just because you’re a woman, either.”

“Fine by me,” she huffed.

He was the first to make a move, rushing forward with a well aimed jab. Fang evaded easily, and blocked the knee he swung up a moment later. Her leg swept out to knock him off his feet, but he leapt over it and pushed her backwards with another round of punches. She dodged most and blocked the rest using her arms, studying his movements.

When she learned the patterns of his technique she took it to her advantage. His fist struck out again and she caught it in her hand, twisting it and pulling him forward to send her knee flying into the man’s stomach. She didn’t give him a chance to recover as he doubled over. Her fist collided with the underside of his jaw, leaving him stumbling off balance before her other fist sailed powerfully into his cheek.

Adonis hit the ground hard, his body kicking up sand as it tumbled from the force of Fang’s blow. It was immediately clear that he wouldn’t be picking himself up anytime soon. The man was out cold.

“You kidding me?” Fang whined in disbelief. How a person that weak could survive for so long was beyond her. Placing her hands on her hips she turned to the circle of bandits, her tone a mixture of disappointment and frustration. “So? Anyone else wanna have a go?”

“What a hook,” one of the men said excitedly, taking a step forward. “Can you teach me how to do that, Boss?”

The hunter’s brows creased at the strange title. “I’m not your boss, dingus. That’s him over there.” She nodded in the direction of Adonis’s form, lying prone with a puddle of drool collecting under his chin.

“Not anymore he ain’t,” another man piped up. “You beat him, didn’t you? That puts you in charge now.”

“I knock some sense into your ringleader and suddenly we’re all chums? What are you, a pack of gorgonopsid?” she scoffed. “I don’t have time to babysit your gang. Just move along and try not to get in my way.”

“But you _have_ to join Monoculus,” a woman insisted, her Pulsian accent throwing Fang off slightly. “Adonis wouldn’t have challenged you if he didn’t think you were a threat to our business. Imagine what we could accomplish if we teamed up. There’s got to be _something_ we can offer in return for your help around the dunes.”

Fang’s lips drew into an even line, and her eyes swept over the bandits. Most seemed defensive, but hopeful. They were asking for a truce. She could either accept it or spend the rest of her days in the desert rivaling them. It was hard enough to watch her back without adding Monoculus to her list of enemies.

“If I join this little party of yours, I make the rules. And I don’t want any backtalk,” Fang announced. “I’m after something in the ruins. A clavis. You can have anything else I manage to find but that.”

“A clavis, huh?” a bandit asked cautiously. “Those lackeys from the Order of Salvation have been asking around for something like that. You ain’t with them, are you?”

“I need to get to that clavis before them,” she answered evasively. “If you’re going to help me I want your eyes and ears on the Order at all times. Same goes for anyone else asking about the clavis. If they get too nosy don’t be afraid to rough ‘em up.”

The bandits pressed closer to each other, exchanging glances and quiet murmurs. Fang observed them carefully before a strangled noise reached her ears. Adonis sat up with a groan, sand plastered to half his face and body. She stepped over to him and held out her hand. “Sorry I hit you so hard. I was in a mood.”

“I probably deserved it,” he admitted painfully, cupping his jaw. Reaching out with his other hand he let her pull him to his feet. “Deal’s a deal. I’ll get out of your hair in the morning – provided I don’t have a concussion.”

“I had something else in mind,” Fang countered persuasively. She nodded her head away from the group in a gesture to get him to follow her, picking her spear up along the way.

“Oh?” Adonis grinned, adopting a suggestive expression. “What could a beautiful woman such as yourself want with me?”

“Knock it off,” she berated, and turned to face him when they were far enough from potential eavesdroppers. “I’ll help lead your operation here, but we keep that within the group. For all intents and purposes you play the role as head of the bandits and report to me in private. I don’t want the Order catching on that I’m involved in any way.”

“What’s your story with them?” he pressed curiously. “I don’t think it’ll go over well with the rest of the gang if you’re working with them. Most of us are outlaws.”

“The Order is trying to take something very precious from me,” Fang explained in a low tone. “I can’t let them do that, so I have to make sure they stay away from these ruins. You’re going to help me with that.”

“And how exactly do you propose we do that?”

“Any way we can,” she answered. “Distract them. Get them lost. Mislead them. And if absolutely necessary …” She trailed off, but he received the message pretty clearly.

“Wow. You mean business, lady,” Adonis said, scratching the sand from his hair. “We’ll do what we gotta do. But you better find us a ton of treasure for sticking our necks out like this.”

Fang nodded. “It’s a promise, so long as you hold up your end of the bargain.”

“Let’s shake on it.” He extended his hand toward her. “Monoculus is at your disposal. We’ll take care of those pesky secutors while you make us filthy rich.”

“I don’t know about ‘filthy rich’, but I’ll make it worth your while,” she agreed, and accepted his handshake. When his brow arched at her choice of wording she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “And you’re gonna have to stop with the implications because you are _so_ barking up the wrong tree.”

“Just living up to my name,” Adonis chuckled wryly. “And speaking of which I never got yours.”

Fang shrugged, pulling away to saunter back toward the inn. “Boss works just fine.”

“What? You can’t be serious,” he complained. “Can I at least get a hint? Does it sound really girly and that’s why you won’t tell me? Boss? Boss!” He jogged a few paces to catch up with her, and the rest of the bandits followed to join them for another round in the lounge.

-

_The clergymen regarded him silently, skeptic of the news he brought. Vanille shot pensive eyes from them back to the Patron, her hands wringing over her chest._

_“You can make those faces all you want but it’s true,” Snow told them calmly. “Fang’s gone to help collect the holy clavis. So make sure your units on the ground know that. I need all the help I can get fighting the chaos infusions in Yusnaan. I wouldn’t like it if I had to send officers out to the desert just to keep your men in check.”_

_The High Priestess said nothing, holding her tongue to quell her anger. Snow was playing a dangerous game that they could not afford to lose. Though the Order outranked him in power, his city and followers were incredibly loyal. If so inclined he could command them to do whatever he saw fit. Luxerion relied on Yusnaan’s exports for survival, and the Order could not risk making an enemy of the l’Cie Patron just to snuff out the threat the troublesome hunter imposed. For now, at least._

_“We’ll inform the secutors,” the second in command said at last, his tone peaceful but wary. “But if we suspect Yun Fang of any wrongdoing we will be forced to take action. She is not above the law, Mr. Villiers.”_

_“I’ll keep tabs on her,” Snow assured dismissively. “You don’t have to worry about a thing.”_

_When he and his guards turned away from the altar and toward the long center aisle of the cathedral Vanille sprang forward. “Snow,” she began, coming up alongside him as he paused. “Is Fang really going to get the clavis?”_

_The Patron fought to keep his expression neutral. He didn’t want to lie to Vanille. He hadn’t even expected her to be there to witness his discussion with the Order. But he couldn’t tell her Fang’s real plans, not with the clergy so close. He doubted the Saint would even keep that information to herself if she knew._

_“She is,” Snow answered with the vaguest of smiles. “She wants to make things right. So cheer up. She’ll be back in no time.”_

_Vanille searched his eyes for some validity to that statement, but he turned away before she could make up her mind. An upsetting mixture of hope and doubt fluttered in her stomach as she watched him leave. As much as she wanted to believe him, she knew her partner too well. If Snow wasn’t lying, then Fang was._

“Back in no time, huh?” Vanille murmured tiredly.

She lay on her side in the middle of her spacious bed, a line of pillows piled against her back to occupy the space that was far too empty. In front of her she held the crystal fragment in a loose grip, her bright eyes soaking in the vision it produced. Within its facets she could see Fang clearly. She sat leaning her weight against her lance, talking idly with a stranger while her eyes locked on a clock mounted atop an ancient looking doorway.

They had discovered the stone’s miraculous power years ago, back when it was a strange curiosity and not altogether needed. Now it had become a lifeline for the Saint. She couldn’t sleep without the security of knowing that Fang was safe. So she would stay up for hours, turning the crystal this way and that, until an image would eventually manifest. Then she would watch Fang’s explorations, or sometimes even her sleeping face, until either the vision ceased or exhaustion forced her eyes to close before her heart wanted them to.

She could gather information on Fang’s whereabouts based on her surroundings, and Snow had been telling the truth. The hunter was indeed in the dunes, navigating the ruins. Whether it was for the reasons the Patron specified or ulterior ones Vanille did not know. She could only pray it was the former. She wanted Fang to come back to Luxerion. She wanted her to make peace with the decision she’d made, and spend what time they had left together.

But it was nearly a month since the two of them had parted, and it didn’t seem as though Fang would be returning to her anytime soon. Finding the clavis proved to be a near impossible task. She wondered how long it would take for her to tire of the dunes and give up completely. Would she forget about Vanille as well?

Whatever the future held, it was enough to know that Fang was alright. Maybe one day she would start to smile again. She deserved happiness, even if Vanille couldn’t be the one to give it to her.

The hand of the clock shifted, and the door lifted open. She watched as Fang stood, and tried to read her lips as she instructed a small team of men. A thin smile graced the Saint’s features when she appeared to be poking fun at one of them, rolling her eyes and nudging him into the tomb with the flat end of her spear. As she followed after him the vision in the stone began to falter, and Vanille knew it would soon give out.

“Goodnight, Fang,” Vanille whispered softly, watching the light around the woman’s face grow dimmer before disappearing completely. Closing her hand around the stone she drew it to her chest, breathing deeply as her eyes fluttered shut.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Notes & Chapter References: 
> 
> "She makes it sound like a partnership, but really, I heard she beat them into submission. The bandit gang, Monoculus, they tried to mess with her. So she gave them a good thrashing and that made her their boss."
> 
> "Is that what it looked like? Well, anyway, it's true we had a little 'talk', and next thing I knew the bandits were groveling on their knees, begging 'Please be our Boss!' Didn't see a reason to refuse, so I became the leader of Monoculus." 
> 
> \- Vanille & Fang (Reminiscence: Tracer of Memories)
> 
> Big thanks to my beta plus_minus.


	10. Lightning Returns

-

9 9 9 A F

-

Four years, three months, and six days. According to her log that was how long it had been since she’d discovered the clavis. That was how long she had hidden its location from the Order. Over the years her band of misfits had chased several parties of secutors out of the desert. Eventually they stopped arriving altogether, and Fang entertained the unlikely idea that perhaps she had won.

But it all began to unravel so quickly, from the moment Adonis poked his head into her office and warned her of a pink-haired stranger spotted near the Giant’s Sandbox. Now she faced the very real possibility that five years of grueling work were for nought. And just a few short days before the millennium, no less.

The Order was clever. She should have known this was their plan all along.

Ruffian was a ghost of its former self. The lounge that once brimmed at the edges with tourists was now too vacant to find comfortable. She sat at the bar regardless, recounting her adventures in the desert to the last person in the world she thought she would ever share a drink with. When she concluded a series of rants about her fallible but oddly affable crew her companion gave a small, half hearted laugh. It sounded strange. Fake wasn’t the right word for it. Just – empty.

Scratching behind her ear Fang leaned against the counter, her gaze falling toward the clock on the wall. It was late, and it would still be another few hours before the doors to the ruins unsealed themselves. She needed to be rested and prepared for when that happened. She’d hoped a nightcap would alleviate some of her stress and sedate her enough to sleep before their excursion, but found she could not bring herself to relax in her present company.

“Listen, Light,” Fang began in a tired but friendly tone. “Not that I mind the company, but shouldn’t you be out – you know, bein’ the Savior and all? Little good you do the world sitting around a dusty old watering hole in the dunes.” The barkeep shot her a look and she smirked, correcting herself. “No offense meant, Dameon.”

Lightning gave a thin smile, mindful of the other woman’s dismissal. Unbeknownst to Fang, she was doing her job. She hadn’t come to the Dead Dunes to procure the clavis as she imagined the hunter believed. She was drawn there by the chaos tethered to a suffering soul in the desert. That soul, she had every right to believe, was Fang’s.

She remembered the talk she had with Hope in the Ark. There would be hard cases to solve, and her time was too brief and too priceless to be spent trying to save these particular individuals. But Fang was an exception. She was not the woman she knew all those centuries ago. Much like the desert winds the years had scraped away at her bit by bit, leaving her worn and abraded. She hid it well enough behind jokes and boisterous antics, but to Lightning they seemed so clearly to be a façade. It was an act to show the Savior she trusted her, but the predatory glint in her eyes betrayed her. Despite her talk of old times and comradery, Fang looked at her as she would an enemy at the battlefront.

As to why she did not know. Though she had a suspicion. If Lightning had any chance of lifting some of the weight around Fang’s soul, she would need to address it. Reaching up she switched off her communicator. Hope would berate her for it later, but she couldn’t very well have this conversation with a fourteen-year-old chattering away in her ear. He’d already spoken oddly about Fang as it was, and she did not feel the need to hear his commentary on the matter.

When the static went dead she shifted to face Fang again. “What happened between you and Vanille?” she asked. It was sudden, and blunt. Maybe if she could still sympathize she would think to introduce the topic more delicately.

Fang frowned, her shoulders squaring at the subject. “You can’t tell me the Order hasn’t said anything about it already.”

“I’m not with the Order,” Lightning reminded, not for the first time that day. “So tell me what happened.”

“Nothing, Light,” she said, her eyes fixed on her drink. “I’m here for her, aren’t I?” She didn’t want to say anything more. Their mission the following day was too important to jeopardize with a slip of the tongue. She had to destroy the clavis, and she needed the Savior’s power in order to do that.

“But it’s more than that, isn’t it?” Lightning pressed calmly. “You’re upset.”

Fang pushed her drink out to the barkeep, encouraging the man to pour her another. She combed her fingers through her dark bangs afterward, staring at the deep chestnut surface of the counter. It was the end of the world. And it was Lightning asking her. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to divulge some of her secrets. Just to get them out into the air. Just to acknowledge they existed beyond the privacy of her own thoughts.

“I miss her, alright?” Fang confessed in a low tone. “This is the longest I’ve gone without seeing her – consciously, at least. And it feels like shit, you know?”

Lightning almost wanted to ask exactly how long that was but refrained from doing so. She imagined any amount of time Fang spent away from Vanille felt like a lifetime. She sat quietly as the bartender set Fang’s drink beside her. It remained untouched, and the dark haired woman cupped her brow as she shook her head slowly.

“Me and her, we were always together; ever since we were kids. I wanted it to stay that way. So when we turned to crystal …” She paused to cock her lips into an embarrassed sort of smile. “Don’t laugh at me, Light. Snow may’ve worn off on me a little, but … I knew that when we woke up, I wanted to ask Vanille to marry me.”

Fang’s throat went tight at the admission. Though they had never confirmed their relationship to the other l’Cie she always suspected that Lightning could read between the lines. Fang herself may have been partly responsible for that, after the private words they shared in Palumpolum.

“It was a short lived dream, I guess,” she continued flatly. “We woke up to a dying world, and all Vanille could do was obsess over the souls trapped within the chaos.”

Lightning regarded her silently, taking time to soak in the words before she asked softly, “Do you resent that Vanille is the Saint?”

For the first time in a long while Fang’s piercing eyes met hers, marveling at how quickly she could get to the root of a problem. She nodded, trying to suppress the anger that so often accompanied the subject. “Of course I do. I think she and I have done enough for these damn gods and fal’Cie already. We’ve done our part – so why did she have to wake up like that? Why is she still being made to suffer? And why did _I_ wake up with no bloody means of protecting her from it all?”

At that last part her fist involuntarily struck the countertop, jostling the glasses that rested atop it. She brought her gaze to it again, quiet for a moment as she puffed out a breath to calm herself. “She doesn’t deserve any of this,” she graveled. “It should’ve been my burden to carry _. I_ attacked Anima. Vanille became a l’Cie because of _me_.”

Lightning didn’t quite understand what Fang was referring to. Perhaps it was something from their past on Gran Pulse, something that led her to take responsibility for all that occurred thereafter. It would have to be a conversation for another time.

Drawing her lips into an even line Lightning placed her hand on the hunter’s shoulder reassuringly. “It doesn’t help to dwell on the past, Fang. You said as much yourself earlier today. Vanille won’t have to suffer much longer. After the end of days, I’m certain the two of you will be reunited in the New World.”

A dark sneer stretched across Fang’s face at that. “Yeah. Sure.”

Bringing her drink to her lips she downed it in one swig. No matter which way she looked at it, what Lightning tried to assure her with was impossible. If Vanille completed the Soulsong she would be lost to the chaos, purged and gone forever with the rest of the dead. And if Fang succeeded in destroying the clavis – well, she doubted Bhunivelze would have any room in his new world for a woman who had so blatantly defied him. It might have even been too late for her, after what she pulled at the cathedral.

Come the end of days, she and Vanille would be parted forever. But it was alright. She would wander the chaos for eternity if it meant Vanille’s soul could be saved. It was the least Fang could do after all the suffering she had caused her.

She set down her glass and pushed it out toward the bartender once more. Lightning watched her stoically, feeling no closer to fulfilling Fang’s wish. She could feel the chaos grip more tightly around her soul, farther from her reach than ever. At this rate, if she did not find a way to intervene, she knew she would not be able to save her. There was a piece to this puzzle that she was missing.

Directing her eyes toward the clock Lightning stood, the hand on Fang’s shoulder patting twice in a show of solidarity and, she hoped, comfort. “I have some errands to run. Rest up. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“Don’t I know it, sister,” Fang agreed, raising her newly refilled glass to the Savior. “Where ya headed?”

“Luxerion,” she answered plainly. “If I see Vanille do you want me to give her a message?” Her eyes scanned Fang for any sort of reaction. The muscles in the hunter’s neck contracted, and her eyes looked far away for a moment. But then her brows lifted as a thought struck her and she shook her head.

“This late? Knowing her she’s probably asleep by now,” Fang dismissed with a soft chuckle.

“But if I do see her,” Lightning pressed.

The corner of Fang’s lips tugged in a smirk as she looked away, her posture visibly melting at the thought of her partner. “Just tell her I said goodnight,” she said coolly.

Though Lightning was disappointed with the mundane response she did not let it show. The message wasn’t entirely important, as it was. Once they acquired the clavis they could both go to Luxerion and see Vanille together. Then Fang would be able to say whatever she wanted to the other woman in person.

To get the clavis and reunite with Vanille. That had to be Fang’s wish. If it would save her comrade’s soul then Lightning was determined to see it done. “I’ll be back in the morning,” she said, turning toward the exit. “Be ready to get that last piece of the crux.”

“Same goes for you,” Fang countered lightheartedly. She waited a few seconds for Lightning to leave the bar before her smile fell and her eyes grew tired. Pushing out of her seat she moved with heavy limbs toward the stairs, ascending them and walking to the end of the hallway. She opened a door that led to a rooftop balcony and stepped out onto it, not entirely surprised to find it occupied. Adonis stood with binoculars pressed against his face, trailing the Savior to ensure that she was actually leaving. Fang swung a chair up beside him and sat down in exhaustion.

“You really trust her?” Adonis asked, not taking his eyes from his task.

“Nope. But we don’t have much of a choice,” she answered honestly. “She’s going to lead me to that clavis tomorrow. And if she doesn’t get onboard with the plan, then only one of us is going to leave those ruins.”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” he told her.

Fang hummed an agreement, pursing her lips as she stared off at the stars. “If I die tomorrow will you give it your all to destroy it?”

“Shit, Boss. You serious?” Adonis lowered the binoculars and turned to look at her.

“The Savior’s a lot stronger than I am,” she stated calmly. “The only advantage I have is surprise. If that doesn’t work and she really wants that clavis, well – that might be it for me.”

“You can’t get yourself killed when we’re this close to the end.” Adonis argued. “What about your gal? Don’t you want to see her again before it’s all over?”

A faint smile graced Fang’s lips. It would have been nice to see Vanille one more time before the world’s end. But her safety was more important. “Just promise me you’ll try.”

“We can try all we want, but if you’re no match for her than I don’t see how we stand a chance either,” Adonis defended.

“Good point,” Fang sighed, throwing her arms behind her head. “Guess that means I can’t mess it up.”

Stepping away from the ledge Adonis flashed her a lopsided grin. “I believe in you, Boss. You said you’d keep her safe and that’s what you’re gonna do.”

Fang rolled her eyes and nodded toward the door. “Alright. Get out of here, you big mush.”

The bandit laughed and honored the command, walking back into the inn and leaving her alone with her thoughts. In the silence Fang allowed her eyelids to flutter shut and she breathed in the cool desert air. If this was her last night alive she could think of worse ways to spend it. Then again, she could think of a thousand better ways – all of which revolved around a single individual.

Fang was never one to rely on any divine source for assistance. She preferred to use her own strength and intellect. But if there truly was some benevolent force that existed somewhere in the universe, she prayed that it would let her succeed tomorrow. The alternative was simply far too cruel.

“It’ll be over soon,” she told herself. Her eyes creaked open again to stare at the ghostly moon that was once humanity’s salvation. Now it was an ark for the souls of their dying world. At the end of days, she wanted Vanille to be among them. Even if it meant Fang herself had to stay behind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to my beta plus_minus. The next chapter takes place after the events in the Dead Dunes quest.


	11. Before the End

-

9 9 9 A F

-

Vanille sighed with fatigue as the guards ushered out the last of the visitors from the Hall of Devotion. There were more of course, this being the eve of the end, but the Order shut their doors to them for now. They needed their Saint to rest. She would need all the energy she could muster for the coming ceremony.

Turning to the hallway she began the long walk toward her quarters. When she reached her destination she nodded her head silently to bid her guards goodnight, and they positioned themselves on either side of her door as she closed it. As always, it made her feel as though she were a prisoner. Were they protecting her, or simply making sure that she would not succumb to cowardice and run?

Walking to the center of the room she took a calming breath, reveling in the privacy of her sanctuary. She was finally alone now, away from prying eyes. Allowed to dismantle her social barriers and be who she wanted to be, not just what the Order dictated for the public’s eye. Immediately she reached for the pouch mounted to her belt, fumbling with its ties and eagerly pulling out the object she kept safe within it.

She didn’t know how or why it had gone missing. All she knew was that its disappearance had spiraled her into a level of sadness and despair she had not felt in years. A feeling that reminded her of brief moments of sentience in her first crystal stasis – calling out to Fang, unable to feel her presence. A feeling of being completely and utterly alone.

When Lightning returned it to her it took most of her strength not to burst into tears and hug the woman in gratitude. It was her most prized possession, the only material object she cared about for where she found it and what it allowed her to see.

“Come on, please. Please work.”

Clasping the iridescent stone between her thumb and forefinger Vanille held it above her head and toward the ceiling light. She rocked it back and forth, pressing her lip impatiently as she waited for something – _anything_ – to appear and alleviate her fears. When the necklace was nowhere to be found she suspected the worst. Did its disappearance mean that something happened to Fang? She needed to know that she was okay.

After a fruitless minute she brought the crystal to her eye level and whimpered, now more than ever disappointed in its unpredictability. There was never a real guarantee that a glimmer of Fang would appear within it – she just needed it then. Desperately.

The only image the pendant reflected back was Vanille’s disheartened expression. Through it she could see unshed tears begin to shimmer in her eyes. It wasn’t fair. She had made her peace. She was ready to perform the Soulsong in the coming day, and accepted that she would not live through the ordeal. Yet in spite of this, her final wish had been robbed from her with the theft of the crystal.

She wanted to see Fang more than anything. She wanted to say goodbye. If she could not accomplish this under the heavy guard of the Order, she wanted at least this moment in private to gaze at her image from afar and say all that she wanted to. But she was denied even that.

“Please,” she tried again, her tone soft and slightly broken. She sniffled and brought her other hand up to wipe at her eyes, annoyed that her tears obscured her examination of the stone.

Vanille was about to give up, to hold the object close to her chest and allow herself the cry she knew she needed. But her breath hitched and her body locked in place, watching as a dark haired figure slowly appeared in the glossy surface of the crystal beside her own reflection. _Behind_ her own reflection, she realized. Gasping she spun on her heels, eyes large and mouth agape as she stared up at the woman in disbelief.

It was Fang. Fang was alive. Fang was _here_.

“Are you real?” It was all Vanille could ask, lonely enough to have imagined her. She took a hesitant step forward, reaching out to cup the side of the hunter’s face. It was warm and smooth.

Fang chuckled softly in her throat, her own hand coming up to rest over hers. “I should hope so.”

“Fang …”

The tears finally leaked down her cheeks and Vanille leapt at the woman, dragging her down as she wrapped her arms around her shoulders and buried her face in the crook of her neck. She quietly sobbed her name again, nuzzling into her as she cried. She never wanted to let her go.

“Hey now,” Fang chided, in that gentle voice reserved only for her. Her strong arms wrapped around the smaller woman’s waist, holding her close. Closing her eyes she breathed in the familiar scent of her hair. However brief the encounter might be, she wanted to engrain every second of it in her memory – to keep with her forever, come what may.

“How did you get in here?” Vanille finally asked as she pulled back.

Fang shifted slightly to reach into her top, pulling out a key to the service entrance and wagging it with a smirk. “Aremiah gave this to me and helped distract the secutors. I tried to thank her, but she said to thank Light instead. She put her up to it, apparently. Returning a favor and all.”

“But there are guards outside right _now_. Did you –” Vanille trailed off. The soldiers tasked with surveilling her were not the warmest bunch of men, but she hoped the hunter hadn’t hurt them at all.

In response Fang shook her head, “I’ve been in here for a few hours already. The wardrobe’s more comfortable than my room in Ruffian, you know that?”

At the mention of the desert Vanille allowed her eyes to roam over the woman’s features. The harsh environment had changed her over the years. She held a deeper tan than usual. Her hair was slightly dulled from the sun, and her murky jade eyes were now piercingly bright against her dark skin. It was a stark contrast compared to her own porcelain complexion, hidden from sunlight most days in the cathedral.

In her eyes Fang looked older, though they no longer aged. She supposed it was in the way she carried herself, and the expression in which she regarded her. Holding her gaze, Vanille couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under her eyes. She hadn’t been sleeping. Vanille could venture to guess why, and a feeling of guilt slowly crept over her.

“Why are you here?” She broached the subject cautiously. As elated as she was to see her, their meeting did not come without its complications. She would receive her long awaited answer; whether Fang had actually accepted her martyrdom as Snow had claimed, or she was in fact attempting to pull something instead. She hoped it was the former. If Fang repeated her actions of five years prior she doubted the Order would be as merciful as they were in the past. The stakes were too high. They would neutralize the threat by any means necessary.

“Those rotten secutors stole the clavis right out from under my nose,” Fang told her. “So I thought I might get even with them by stealing _you_. What do you say to that?”

She flashed her a persuasive smile, but it only served to put Vanille on edge. The younger woman looked distraught as she shook her head. “Please don’t, Fang,” she begged her.

The hunter exhaled slowly, her hands running smoothly up the redhead’s back as she searched her gaze. “You know telling me to stop protecting you is the same as telling me to stop breathing. I can’t, Vanille. It goes against every instinct in my body.”

“I know you feel that way,” Vanille hushed sympathetically. “Tomorrow the world is going to end. I _will_ perform the Soulsong, and if you really want to you can try to stop me. But tonight – Can we please not worry about it all tonight?” She pulled herself closer to the older woman, seeking solace. “Forget it, just for now, and stay here with me. Please, Fang.”

Fang relaxed her shoulders somewhat, her half lidded gaze darting from Vanille’s brilliant irises to her lips. How could she say no to that request? Cupping the nape of her neck she drew her close, and then leaned down to kiss her gently. She pulled back after a moment to lock eyes with the woman, her lips still inches from her own. “No matter what happens tomorrow. No matter how it ends. I love you, you hear me? Never forget it.”

“I love you too.” She was crying again, and Fang kissed her more ardently this time. She held her tightly and Vanille responded by molding against her, opening their kiss. The taller woman trailed her hand down her spine until she reached the small of her back, pressing their hips together as she explored her mouth. She’d missed her so much, and Fang had to restrain herself from letting her eagerness get the better of her.

When Vanille parted for air her partner did not let up, kissing along her jaw as her other hand impatiently threw the Saint’s headpiece to the floor. Fang turned her attention toward the sensitive skin of Vanille’s neck, her teeth evoking an audible response from the woman as they grazed against her. Encouraged by the sweet sound she became more assertive, and her hand swept up to gently fall over Vanille’s mouth as she continued. She could be quite vocal, and while Fang found that to be immensely satisfying it would land them in a lot of trouble if the secutors came in to investigate. So she bit down and muffled the startled but aroused cry from her love, pushing her backwards until her legs hit the foot of the bed and sent them toppling onto it.

Vanille pulled her up for another round of heated kisses, her delicate fingers skimming along the hunter’s ribs before sliding into her top. Fang’s groan vibrated against her lips and she rolled her weight until they were both lying side by side, pressed against one another in a tangle of limbs.

There weren’t enough hours in the night to make up for the five years that had been stolen from them. Every caress spoke of countless lonely nights apart. Every desperate glance echoed the uncertainty they’d both felt, never knowing if they would hold the other in their arms again. Fang’s eyes never strayed from her love, soaking in the sight of the writhing woman as she lit up to her touch; her chest heaving, her cheeks flushing – reminding the hunter that Vanille was still alive, and giving her every reason to keep her that way.

Twining their fingers together against the sheets Fang leaned down and kissed her with all that she was, pouring forth every last ounce of affection she could offer while she still had the chance. Vanille reciprocated with the same urgency, her soft touch whisking fire over the hunter’s skin as she coaxed her to familiar heights of pleasure.

For at least the two of them, the end of the world could not feel more bittersweet.

-

Fang stirred to the gentle pressure of Vanille’s lips against her forehead, and groggily smiled as she nuzzled against the pillow.

“You tracked sand into my bed,” the redhead accused lightheartedly.

“That stuff gets everywhere,” Fang graveled. Creaking her eyes open she squinted and took in the girl’s appearance. She knelt on the bed beside the hunter, fully clothed and adorned in her headpiece. Though it was morning the clouds of chaos had already blotted out the sunlight, leaving the room dark and colorless. “What time is the ceremony?” she asked.

The smile fell from Vanille’s features, her brow creasing as she reached down to cup her love’s cheek. “Please don’t interfere, Fang.” The dark haired woman merely stared up at her quietly, allowing Vanille to pet her hair as her eyes softly yet firmly defied her. A knock on the door suddenly penetrated the silence, startling Vanille.

“Sacred One?”

“Just a moment! I’m getting dressed, please don’t come in,” she lied. Returning her fretful gaze to Fang she chewed her lip, looking overwhelmed – as though she had so much she wanted to say to her, and was starved for time.

Pushing up onto her elbow Fang reached for Vanille, placing a hand to the back of her head and kissing her affectionately. She hovered close after she pulled away, her jade eyes sincere as they flickered over hers. “This isn’t goodbye, Vanille. I promise.”

The Saint held back a sob in her chest and leaned forward to kiss her again. Despite Fang’s comforting words she could not help but imagine this was the last time their lips would touch; the last time she would be able to hold Fang close, and express everything she felt for her.

When they parted Vanille was already crawling off the bed, stepping onto the floor and walking backwards toward the door. Her eyes refused to leave Fang, watching as the woman wrapped the sheet around herself and rolled to her feet. Once she was crouched and hidden on the opposite side of the bed Vanille opened the door just wide enough to slip through and shut it quickly. A clergyman greeted her, and she cast him a benevolent smile as the secutors began to lead them toward the Hall of Devotion.

Fang waited several minutes with her lance in hand, and when the guards never came bursting into the room she stood and threw the sheet back onto the bed. She went about the room collecting the pieces of her ensemble, running over a map of the cathedral in her mind. She needed to get to the Temple of Light while drawing as little attention as possible.

She took a deep breath to steel herself as she dressed. Human as she was, she wasn’t alone. She had allies. Snow would be there. Noel too. Even Monoculus was playing its part in distracting the secutors around the city. If Lady Luck was on her side, maybe the Savior would pull through and come to her aid as well. Should she fail in her attempt to save Vanille, someone else would be there to see it done in her stead. That was all Fang could ask for.

Walking over to the door she listened for movement on the opposite end. Confident that the path was vacant she exited the Saint’s quarters and crept hastily through the maze of hallways, ever mindful of the bells that tolled in the distance.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to my beta plus_minus.


	12. New World

-

1 0 0 0 A F | D A Y 0 1 | Y E A R 0 1

-

Silhouette basked in a soft blue light, her warm smile beckoned as her hand swept out toward her. She was tantalizingly out of reach. Fang could feel anxiety rush through her as the light consumed Vanille entirely. It shot out into the inky blackness of space, leaving the hunter to chase after her with single-minded determination. Always close behind, but never close enough. It was the last thing she remembered.

-

“Vanille,” Fang murmured, half asleep. Sunlight painted her eyelids red, and a gentle breeze whisked across her skin – the bare portions tickled by whatever surrounded her, floral and aromatic. She slowly opened her eyes, finding the sky blue and the birds chirping. It took a few precious seconds for reality to set in, and when it did she bolted upright with a startled intake.

“Vanille!”

Fang looked around apprehensively, taking in where she was and, more importantly, who was not with her. She was in a large field of red flowers, surrounded on every side by roaming hills of lush green farmland. Her hand reached up to comb through her hair, overwhelmed, and she tried to force her breathing to regulate. As she did so a gentle noise caused her ears to perk, and she craned her neck to peer over her shoulder. A few meters away rested another form, her peaceful smile visible from a distance on her sleeping features.

Relief swept over Fang’s entire being. She was not alone. She wouldn’t have to scour their large new world in search of her, after all.

Rolling onto her knees Fang crawled over to the other woman. She looked beautiful, Fang thought, lying among the dancing wildflowers. Cupping her cheek the hunter spoke her name again, encouraging her to wake. Vanille’s lashes slowly parted, her vision blurry but shielded from the radiant sunlight by a shadow. When she realized who it belonged to her smile spread.

“Hey,” Vanille croaked softly.

“Hey, yourself,” Fang laughed, returning a smile she couldn’t possibly contain. She stared down at the girl in wonder. They were alive. Vanille had survived, and they had both made it safely to the new world. Together. She could hardly fathom their luck.

She watched carefully as Vanille furrowed her brow, her eyes far away as if she were concentrating on something. Doubt suddenly crept inside of her. “Everything alright?” Fang asked.

After a quiet moment Vanille brought her gaze back to Fang’s, her expression a mixture of relief and astonishment. “The chaos. I don’t hear it anymore. Not here, at least.”

“Yeah?” she whispered. It was a good sign. Vanille would not be made to suffer through the voices any longer. That in itself elated the hunter, but the admission also spurred the flame of hope inside of her. Maybe, with the constant chatter of chaos gone from her life, Vanille would be ready to accept her back into it. Maybe she would be ready to forgive herself for their past transgressions, and lead a normal life.

Fang let out a shaky breath, relieved yet admittedly afraid. She couldn’t lose Vanille again. Not after all of this. She just couldn’t.

Her vision blurred and before she realized it a tear escaped, dotting Vanille’s cheek and surprising them both. Fang shifted her weight to rub impatiently at her eye. “Sorry ‘bout that,” she apologized with a small laugh.

Vanille’s hands pushed hers aside, cradling either side of Fang’s face as her thumbs wiped away any remaining moisture from her lashes. She then used them to pull the woman close to her, and their lips brushed together in a chaste kiss. Fang buried a sob and dropped her weight a little more, covering the girl’s body with her own – as if she still needed to protect her, to shield her from all that sought to harm her.

But this was a new world. A safer world, free from the crystals and false gods that had plagued their prior home. Here, she hoped, they would at last know peace. They would know what it felt like to age gracefully, walking through life side by side.

Fang broke their kiss first, staring down at Vanille with a sudden eagerness. “Stay with me,” she begged. “I’ll do what I can to make you happy. I promise.”

Vanille blinked adoringly, her cheeks flushing as her gaze flickered over Fang’s. Everything in that moment was so beautiful. It was like something out of her dreams, leaving her to wonder if perhaps she truly _had_ died in the Soulsong. The hands idly resting on Fang’s cheeks brushed lovingly across them. “I don’t want to be apart again,” she confessed, her bright eyes uncertain. “But is it really alright to be happy? Have I done enough to deserve it, Fang?”

“Of course you have,” she answered earnestly. “You led the souls here to be reborn. Without you, they’d have been lost forever. You did an amazing thing, Vanille.”

“You helped too,” she reminded. “I would have done a lot worse if you and Lightning hadn’t stopped me. I was prepared to destroy them all. It’s unforgivable.”

“You didn’t know,” Fang assured, pressing her forehead against hers. “It doesn’t matter what might’ve happened. You thought you were doing right by them either way. There’s absolutely no reason to blame yourself.”

“But – ”

“But nothing,” she shushed, and pulled back to brush Vanille’s bangs from her eyes. “You did the right thing. And you deserve every bit of happiness this world has to offer. Let me take care of you.”

Vanille chewed her lip, before relenting with a hesitant nod. “Okay. Just – be patient with me. It’s going to take a while to feel … right again.” She looked away guiltily. “I didn’t think I could feel much of anything toward the end. At least not until you showed up.”

Fang smiled thinly, flattered but ultimately disheartened. Vanille was not the only one suffering from regret. Had she not attacked the Order all those years ago she could have remained in Luxerion to support her partner. The clavis could’ve waited until the very end, in hindsight. How withdrawn had Vanille become in her long absence?

Bowing her head slightly Fang nodded. “We’ll take it one step at a time,” she told the girl in a soothing voice.

Pleased with the response Vanille wrapped her arms around her shoulders and drew her close, planting another kiss against her lips. Fang snuck a hand behind her back and helped pull her into a sitting position, never breaking the contact between them. After a short while they parted, and Vanille was the first to get to her feet. She offered Fang her hand, who accepted the help in spite of not needing it.

The younger woman let go to brush dirt from her legs and bear hide overskirt, glancing around as she did so. “Do you think the others are far?”

“Seems like a big world,” Fang commented, resting her hands at her hips. “If luck’s on our side we’ll find ‘em soon enough.”

Vanille turned to face her, giving a small bob in excitement. “Let’s start looking now!”

“What? Already?” the hunter whined, feigning disappointment. “I don’t know about you but I just busted my arse fighting a god. I deserve a holiday after all this.”

“And you’ll get one _after_ we find everyone!” Vanille chirped. Coming up behind her she placed her hands on the woman’s back and steered her toward the nearest road.

Though she let out an exaggerated sigh a smile stretched across Fang’s features. Vanille was laughing again. She delighted in the sound, welcoming it back like a lost and dearly missed companion. “We’re going to need weapons,” Fang reminded her. “Can’t go around exploring new territory if we don’t know what’s out there.”

“There’s a barn up the road. Maybe we’ll find some farm tools,” Vanille offered.

Fang chuckled. “Oh sure. Beat the monsters with rakes and pitchforks. That’ll show them we mean business.”

The redhead pursed her lip and moved to walk beside her. “I think it’s a good plan. At least until we come across an armory.”

“I never said it wasn’t,” Fang responded lightly. Wrapping her arm around the girl’s middle she gave an affectionate squeeze as they walked. “We’ll be fine. It’s not like this is the first time we’ve woken up in a strange world.”

“Right.” Vanille nodded, flashing a grin. “But unlike the last two times, I have a good feeling about this one.”

Fang smiled warmly. “I do too.”

They had a long road ahead of them, but its prospects were far greater than either of them had imagined possible in their former life. They could thrive in this new world. So long as they had each other, everything would be alright. Nothing else mattered.

“Hey, Fang?”

“Yeah?”

“Where _are_ we?”

“Heck if I should know.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to my beta plus_minus.


	13. One Step Closer

-

Y E A R 0 2

-

NORA House was alive with activity, guests and regulars filling not only the café but the tables and dance floor laid out on the beach. Paper lanterns were strung overhead from the ceiling of the tent, giving its interior a comfortable atmosphere as it colored the night pink and soft white.

Vanille exhaled contentedly in her seat, watching the band pack up its equipment as the DJ carried on in its stead. It’d been such a long and wonderful day. Shifting she leaned her shoulder against the form sitting beside her, and smiled when an arm came to wrap around her middle instinctually.

“Tired?” She heard Fang ask, and felt the pressure of her lips as she kissed her hair.

“Yeah. But I don’t want to go,” Vanille said, fighting through a yawn. “Let’s just stay here.”

“If you fall asleep I can’t carry you back to the hotel. Knowing this useless getup my top would probably fall down halfway there.”

Vanille giggled, turning in her seat so that she was facing her partner. They both wore the same outfit, a strapless lavender gown that trailed down to the floor. On Cocoon it was customary for members of the bridal party to dress in such a way. Grinning she reached out to smooth over Fang’s hair. They’d tried to keep it neat for the wedding, but now that it was so late into the night it was starting to look a little wild again. Not that Vanille minded of course, but Serah seemed to.

“We should head back,” Fang argued softly, smirking at her with a knowing look. “You’ll be cranky in the morning if you don’t go to bed soon.”

Vanille sighed in defeat but smiled regardless. “Alright. But if we’re leaving let’s say goodbye to everyone first.”

Standing she took Fang’s hand and peered around the mass of guests for familiar faces. Sazh’s nest of hair was easy to spot in the crowd, and they headed over to find him speaking with Noel. Yeul stood holding onto the hunter’s arm, dressed similarly to Fang and Vanille. She was the first to see them approach and flashed a warm smile.

“Hey guys,” Vanille chirped.

Sazh turned to face the pair and smiled. Dajh was slung on his hip, sleeping soundly despite the loud atmosphere of the tent. Vanille laughed and patted the child’s head. “Someone’s sleepy.”

“Guess so. You must’ve worn him out with all that dancing,” Sazh chuckled.

Vanille nodded. “It was a lot of fun. I’d say Dajh might even be a better dance partner than Fang!”

“Hey,” Fang protested, feigning offense. “I’ll remember that the next time you’re looking to dance to something slow and romantic.”

Vanille beamed at her teasingly, before her attention was caught by a girl she’d met at the party waving goodbye to her. Pardoning herself she walked over to quickly exchange information. Fang watched her go, and when she turned her eyes to the group again she found all three pairs staring back at her intently.

“Uh – what’s up?” she asked, knitting her brow.

“So, you two are next right?” Sazh probed.

Fang blinked at the man in confusion. “Next for what?”

“You and Vanille. You planning on tying the knot anytime soon?”

Fang smirked somewhat. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard that. Lightning had mentioned it, and before that Snow. “Dunno. I haven’t asked her,” she answered with a shrug.

“Really? Well then what’s the holdup? Get on it, girl.” He pushed her shoulder playfully and she laughed, though her gaze fell to the floor.

 _‘Believe me Sazh, I want to,’_ she thought.

But there was a reason why she’d held herself back from doing so. She wanted to make sure that Vanille was alright first. It had been a slow recovery, and she’d spent the last two years helping the younger woman through her guilt and building up her self worth. She didn’t cry as often as she use to, and lately she’d been more like the free spirit she was in Oerba, back before they had become l’Cie. Still, Fang wanted to be certain that Vanille was ready to put the past behind her before starting their future together.

After Vanille hurried back to the group and they talked a while longer, she and Fang inevitably said their goodbyes and went to search for the rest of their companions. They found Lightning and Hope sitting at a table far from the crowded dance floor and practically at the edge of the tent. Neither seemed very comfortable with the concept of ‘partying’, even if it was in celebration of the ex-Savior’s sister.

Fang quirked her brow as their conversation abruptly ended when they caught sight of her, and she placed her hands on her hips. “Are we interrupting anything?”

“No,” Lightning said, a little too quickly. “You two are leaving?”

“Yep. We’re heading out early tomorrow to catch the ferry, so it’s goodbye for now.” Fang grinned. “It was nice seeing you, Light. When can we visit _Blank Shadow_ again?”

“It’s _Blanc Chateau_ ,” the woman corrected in mild annoyance. “And never. Last visit your girlfriend brought a sheep into my house.”

“But it was raining,” Vanille defended.

“It ate my tablecloth,” Lightning deadpanned.

Fang laughed and shook her head. “Okay so next time we skip the livestock. We’ll ring you in a couple weeks to let you know when we’re in town.”

“So glad you’re still inviting yourselves.” Lightning rolled her eyes, but the smile she tried to suppress was plainly visible.

“You’ll come too, right Hope?” Vanille chimed at the older man.

“Uh, sure,” he stammered, shifting a glance at the woman beside him. “I mean if it’s alright with Light.”

“Why not? The more the merrier,” Lightning said half sarcastically.

Fang took another look around the tent, unable to locate the remainder of the bridal party. “Where’s your sister, Light?”

“The bar. Snow was trying to get us to do shots. That would be your best bet.”

Taking Lightning’s word for it Fang waved and walked toward the café entrance. Vanille moved to the other side of the table to give the Maid of Honor and Best Man hugs, made awkward only by the recipients who did not know how to receive the gesture. She then took off after Fang and dipped inside the crowded building.

“Faaaang! Do a shot with us!” Snow practically roared, and the hunter doubted she’d ever seen a wider smile on the man. He sat with his arm slung around Serah’s waist, the two of them surrounded by the rest of their companions. The bride startled somewhat at Snow’s loud call, and glanced up from her conversation with Lebreau to see the Gran Pulsians approach.

“No more for me, thanks,” Fang quipped, placing her hand on the groom’s shoulder and giving it a good shake. “You should lay off the stuff too, yeah? It is your wedding night, after all.”

“Don’t worry, I can hold my liquor. Nothing’s going to get in my way of _performing_ later tonight.”

 _“Snow!”_ Serah gasped in horror, elbowing him in the side.

“I – honestly didn’t need to know that,” Fang responded, and smiled sympathetically at the flushed bride.

“We’re going, Serah.” Vanille announced, reaching out to cup the woman’s hands and squeeze them affectionately. “I’m so, so happy for the both of you.”

“Thanks, Vanille.” Serah beamed warmly, returning the squeeze. “We’ll keep in touch, right? I want to hear everything about your trip.”

“Of course.” The redhead grinned. “We’ll send postcards and everything.”

“Speaking of which I have something for you, Fang,” Snow interrupted, and stood to walk behind the bar. “It’s a present.”

Fang arched her brow at the groom skeptically, “I think you’ve got it backwards. _We_ give _you_ gifts.”

The man simply laughed and ducked beneath the counter. When he reemerged he held a massive double-ended spear, causing a few unsuspecting guests in the vicinity to erupt in surprise. He extended it over the bar toward Fang, waiting for her to take it from him. “I felt bad about destroying your old one. We saw this one and thought maybe you’d like it. You’re going to need a good weapon to keep you both safe on those adventures, right?”

Fang reached out and opened her palms, feeling the weight of the weapon as Snow dropped it into her grasp. It was a dragoon lance, and a high-end one at that. She’d been using a subpar weapon up until that point, she could never save up enough to purchase a new one. Their lifestyle didn’t necessarily afford them a budget for luxury items.

“I don’t know what to say. Thanks Snow. Serah.” She brought the spear to her side, trying not to whack anyone with it in the crowded space.

“No problem,” Snow grinned at the hunter, giving her a knowing look. “We’re glad you two could be here with us. We’d be happy to return the favor someday.”

Fang resisted the urge to glance over at Vanille’s reaction to the comment. Regardless she could hear her partner release a soft peal of giggles, and watched as the redhead leaned in to give Serah a farewell embrace. While she was distracted Fang threw Snow a warning look, and the man laughed in amusement.

“You two stay out of trouble, alright?” Serah said, standing to hug the taller woman.

“We’ll try our best.” Fang smirked, and returned the bride’s embrace with one arm.

They congratulated the pair once more, before they turned and made their way toward the exit again. They took a moment to unhook their sandals and stepped out onto the beach, following the shore toward the hotel they were staying at. Vanille wrapped herself around Fang’s arm, resting her head on her shoulder as she enjoyed the warm breeze that whisked over her skin.

“That was a wonderful ceremony,” she mused out loud, reminiscing about the day. “I’m so happy for them.”

“Took them long enough to get here,” Fang commented, her eyes on the moonlit horizon. “It’s good to see him smiling like that again. They’ll do just fine together.”

“Yeah.” Vanille sighed, a little too heavily, and Fang perked up at the sound.

“What’s all that about?” she asked.

Vanille hesitated, debating on whether to be honest with the woman or simply write it off as exhaustion. She decided on the former, clinging a little tighter onto Fang’s arm as she stared down at the sand. “I’m a little jealous,” she muttered.

“Jealous, huh? _You_ wanted to marry Snow?” Fang teased.

“What? No!”

“Oh. Serah than?”

Vanille shook her head and slowed to a halt, her eyes still trained on the ground. Fang smiled softly at her bashfulness, waiting patiently for her to continue. They were alone now on the empty beach, the loud reception already well into the distance. Stepping away from the hunter Vanille lowered her arms until she was loosely clasping Fang’s hand, swinging it nervously as she collected her courage.

“All I’m saying is that it’s beautiful,” Vanille confessed. She swallowed and forced her bright eyes up to meet her partner’s, searching them hopefully. “It would be nice if … maybe someday, we could have something like that?”

Fang’s lips parted slightly in surprise, then lifted into a wide grin. She took a step closer to the smaller woman and quirked her brow playfully. “Oerba Dia Vanille, are you asking me to marry you?”

“Maybe? … Yes?” She glanced at the ground again and then back up, her cheeks darkening. “Would you be okay with that?”

Fang shifted to plant her spear into the sand, then wrapped her arms around Vanille. She leaned in and captured her lips, molding the girl’s body to hers as she held her. Vanille whimpered slightly, bringing her arms up to wrap around the hunter’s shoulders. Fang was the first to break away, resting her forehead against Vanille’s as she smiled. “I’d be more than okay with it,” she finally answered. “Are you sure that’s what you want though? It’s not just that you have marriage on the brain because of those two?”

Vanille shook her head, looking away sheepishly. “Well actually, it’s something I’ve wanted for a really long time. I just thought you’d be the one to ask me.”

“That so?” Fang murmured. Her fingers reached up to glide over the crystal pendant strung around Vanille’s neck, and she smirked to herself as she watched it glimmer in the moonlight. “Sorry to have kept you waiting.”

Vanille smiled, tilting up to peck at her lips again, before she held Fang more firmly and rested her head against her chest. She laughed airily, relief invading her tone. “I’ve waited for over a thousand years, you know,” she teased.

“In my defense we spent a lot of that time as crystals, I’ll remind you,” Fang countered, petting Vanille’s hair. “And if we’re getting married we’re having a traditional Gran Pulse wedding. None of this cake and frilly white dresses nonsense.”

“I’d like that,” Vanille giggled. “But you have to admit Serah’s gown was gorgeous.”

“On her, maybe. I wouldn’t exactly call that my style.” Tugging her weapon from the sand Fang pulled away, keeping one arm around Vanille as she led her down the beach again. “So what’s the plan, missy? Does this effect what we’ve been doing or is there something else you have in mind?”

Since their awakening in the new world they hadn’t settled in one place for very long. They traveled the land and explored the new terrain, supporting themselves by hunting and taking odd jobs along the way. That was how the Yun clan had lived, and Vanille didn’t seem to take issue with Fang wanting to continue that tradition for the time being. Still, the hunter wondered if Vanille would eventually want to settle down and find a permanent home for the two of them.

“I want to see everything in this world,” Vanille answered. She’d spent thirteen years confined to Luxerion, unable to explore what existed beyond the city’s walls. She didn’t want to stop their adventures. Not for a very long time. “Let’s keep traveling. We’ll find someplace really nice to have the ceremony, and then after that we’ll travel some more.”

“Sounds good to me,” the older woman laughed, squeezing her middle. “Just the two of us? You sure I’ll be enough company for you?”

Vanille hugged Fang’s waist, nuzzling against her shoulder as they walked. “There’s no one else I’d rather be with,” she said.

Fang smiled and looked out toward the horizon, her pulse leaping with the excitement their future promised. “Me either,” she agreed, and kissed the top of Vanille’s head.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter References & Author Notes:
> 
> 'Blanc Chateau' is the name of the train station in the epilogue cutscene of Lightning Returns. 
> 
> I only had access to a broken English version of the NORA chapter in Tracer of Memories, so some details may be off.
> 
> It's been a blast. I don't consider myself much of a writer, but I really wanted to read a fic like this so I made one myself. If you enjoyed it consider leaving kudos. If not I would love some constructive feedback so I can do better in the future. Thank You to everyone who got this far, I know it's a lot of words. And a huge Thank You to plus_minus for helping me smooth out the edges of each chapter, and for all the hysterical commentary. You were and continue to be a great source of encouragement.
> 
> I want to congratulate Australia on its marriage equality victory, and to the rest of the world I wish you all a Happy New Year :)


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